


My Champion, My Dragon

by Marblez



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, F/M, First Time, Het, Homophobia, M/M, Slash, Underage (Nothing Graphic)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extract - ‘Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue. 1982.

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Prologue. 1982.**

Her sister’s trial was all the newspapers seemed to care about these days and quite rightly so, the things that she and her three accomplices had done were utterly despicable. It horrified her to think that someone with whom she shared so much more than merely blood could be capable of such a thing, of torturing a young couple who had welcomed a child into the world only the year before to the point where their minds had broken. Frank and Alice Longbottom would spend the rest of their lives in a secure ward inside St Mungo’s leaving their infant son as much of an orphan as Harry Potter, the ‘Boy-Who-Lived.’

Making her way along the muggle street she stopped in front of the house she had grown up in and been thankful to leave following her marriage, waiting for it to fully appear once the concealment charm had recognised her as a member of the Black family. Reaching down to lift up the front of the long black skirt she wore underneath her stylish emerald green coat the elegant young woman ascended the steps at the front of the building and, after tapping the tip of her wand on the door to unlock it, slipped inside the long entrance hall.

A house elf appeared at the foot of the staircase directly in front of her.

“Miss Narcissa,” the creature murmured whilst performing a deep bow. The dirty pillow case it wore slipped to reveal the creatures grotesquely scarred back. It had always amused her sisters, Bellatrix and Apolline, to torment the poor creatures whenever they could or to order them to punish themselves for no real reason. “May Narbey be of assistance?”

“Yes,” she responded, speaking firmly but kindly as she had treated all of the house elves she had become mistress of in her own house following her marriage. “Please see to it that all of my belongings which remain in this house are sent to Malfoy Manor at once.”

“Yes, Miss Narcissa.”

The house elf disappeared with a tell-tale pop, allowing her to make her way up the first flight of narrow stairs towards the sitting room on the first floor of the tall and thin house. Portraits of her ancestors stared at her as she passed them by, some calling out and demanding her attention but she remained focused on making her way up the staircase.

She would not be deterred from the difficult task she had undertaken.

During the rise of the Dark Lord both she and her then fiancé had been pressured into joining his cause by their families, Lucius taking the Dark Mark alongside his father whilst she had escaped being branded due to the fact that both of her parents as well as two of her older sisters had leapt at the chance to become fully fledged members of the evil cause. Thus she had been allowed to slip into the shadows, spouting his rhetoric when it was required of her but never once taking any sort of vow to remain faithful to the Dark Lord.

Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large.

They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.

She could already imagine how her parents were going to take this decision of theirs which was why her husband and son had already begun closing up Malfoy Manor, five-year-old Draco “helping” as best he could, and would meet her at the international apparation point in a couple of hours time after she had concluded her business with her family. It wasn’t going to be a pleasant meeting. She could remember how her parents, especially her mother, had reacted when Andromeda had admitted she was pregnant out of wedlock and that the father of her child had been a muggle she’d met on a night out in muggle London.

They’d cast her out of the house that night with only the clothes on her back.

Thankfully the muggle in question had taken her in and they’d been married in a small muggle ceremony a couple of months before they’d been blessed with a daughter.

Narcissa hadn’t been able to attend the wedding but she had managed to visit a couple of months after the baby’s birth without the rest of her family finding out. Nymphadora had been the most adorable thing she had ever seen, wriggling in her multi-coloured blankets, gurgling almost constantly and snuggling against her chest as she held the young infant.

She’d returned home feeling broodier than she ever had in her life.

Stepping into the sitting room she was unsurprised to find her parents sat on opposite sides of the room, her father sitting at the writing desk going through official looking papers while her mother reclined on the sofa in front of a roaring fire. Druella Black, nee Rosier, did not look her forty-nine years thanks to the potions and charms she used daily in order to maintain her appearance which had led to her being confused with her eldest daughters, Bellatrix and the twins, Andromeda and Apolline. Unlike her sisters Narcissa took after their father, at least in looks, and had had a lifetime of unkind comments about her blonde hair.

“Narcissa, darling, what a pleasant surprise,” her mother murmured, placing her cocktail glass down on the coffee table before rising to her feet as swiftly as he restrictive corset would allow. She, like all the fashionable women of her generation, was still content to dress as though it was still the 1800’s. “What brings you home so unexpectedly?”

Leaning down to kiss her mother’s cheek as was expected of her Narcissa offered her father a small smile before squaring her shoulders and taking a step back, removing herself from immediate striking distance whilst her hand curled around the jewelled handle of her wand.

“I came to say goodbye,” she murmured, reaching up with her other hand to tuck her long blonde hair behind her ear. “Lucius and I are leaving the country. We no longer wish to be associated with the darkness of the last few years and have decided to begin anew.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“We have our son to think about, now, and neither of us wish for him to grow up under the shadow of this families darker affiliations,” she pressed on, taking another step backwards towards the door as her mother advanced towards her. “I apologise if this upsets you, mother, but I wish for my son to grow up with every opportunity available to him which will never happen as long as his parents are associated with the cancer that was the Dark Lord.”

Her mother’s face had turned almost purple with barely controlled rage, her top lip curled into a vicious snarl while if anything her father’s complexion had turned completely ashen.

“…you ungrateful little _bitch_!”

Unfortunately she didn’t flinch back quickly enough to avoid the backhanded blow her mother lashed out with, the countless bejewelled rings adorning her hand leaving a series of bloody gauges in their wake as they sliced through the soft skin of Narcissa’s cheek.

She had little time to cry out in shock, pressing a hand to the shockingly painful injury, before her mother grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out into the hallway. With her body bent double, her mother pulling her head downwards as she walked, it was almost impossible for her to navigate the stairs down to the ground floor without tripping and crashed into the wooden bannister more than once. Her father followed a little way behind.

“Your own family is no longer good enough for you, is that it?” he mother demanded, dragging her into the extravagant dining room which took up most of the ground floor of the house. One wall was completely filled by the ‘Black Family Tapestry’ upon which ever member of the family was magically recorded at birth or marriage, depending on how they entered into the family ranks. “Fine. You always were a weak little bitch, ungrateful of the advantages life’s given you. You’ve never belonged in this family and so now I _cast you out_!”

Narcissa had known that her visit would most likely end up this way.

She hadn’t imagined it would hurt so much to see her mother draw her deformed looking wand, a reflection of her own deformed personality perhaps, and blast her image from the tapestry. Her sister’s face had been removed similarly shortly after she’d been thrown out.

Her husband’s image and that of her precious son received the same brutal treatment.

Moments later she was thrown out of the front door with enough force to send her tumbling painfully down the steps, landing with a pained cry on the pavement below them. Only the magical charms on the front of the house stopped the muggles going about their daily business from noticing the young woman clutching at her bleeding cheek and bruised ribs, staring up at her parents who didn’t say another word to her before shutting the door.

Gritting her teeth the young woman pushed herself up onto her knees, whimpering softly as her bruises body protested, before finally continuing to rise unsteadily to her feet. It wasn’t the first time her mother had physically struck Narcissa, none of the four siblings had been spared the punishment of her stinging blows growing up, but it had _never_ been this bad before. She feared that her ribs, where the pain was only increasing, were in fact broken.

Checking on her wand she was relieved to find it undamaged.

She had intended to walk off her meeting with her parents but that wasn’t possible now and so, raising her wand with her trembling hand, she apparated herself home to Malfoy Manor.

_“Cissa!” “Mummy!”_

As much as she would have liked to reassure the two most important people in her life that she was alright she couldn’t, instead she found herself falling unexpectedly into the arms of her husband who quickly scooped her up into a bridal hold and carried her through to one of the pieces of furniture which had yet to be shrunken for transport to their new house.

“What happened?” Lucius demanded, holding onto her chin as she reclined back into his favourite armchair and examining the cuts to her cheek. “Cissa, what happened to you?”

“My mother wasn’t best pleased with our decision,” she mumbled in response, reaching down to scoop her now weeping son up onto her lap. She couldn’t hide the wince of pain. “I wasn’t expecting quite this sort of a reaction but I knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant…”

“I’ll send for Severus,” her husband announced, releasing his hold of her chin in favourite of running his fingers gently through her hair. “Or perhaps Penelope would be better.”

“Whichever can come at such short notice,” Narcissa murmured in response to his uncharacteristic indecision. “We cannot miss our pre-arranged departure time at the apparation point. You know how strict the Ministry is about international apparation.”

Lucius grunted in agreement, thinking of all the hoops they’d had to jump through in order to gain permission to leave the country at all. He hurried across the fire to contact first his old school friend and then the sympathetic young woman who had taken over the position of Matron at _‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ ’ the year he had graduated.

Both agreed to come at once.

“M-Mummy, what happened to you?”

Meeting her son’s tearful gaze Narcissa managed to muster a reassuring smile, wiping away his tears with her thumbs before pressing a gentle kiss to his silky smooth forehead. He truly was her pride and joy, the best of both herself and Lucius in both looks and temperament.

“I fell down some stairs, my little dragon,” she reassured him softly, twisting the truth into a lie which wouldn’t upset him. “Mummy wasn’t looking where she was going and fell out of one of her shoes. That’ll teach me to wear impractical shoes whilst out walking, won’t it?”

Draco giggled softly as he watched her wiggling her feet, safely ensconced in a pair of sturdy but stylish high heeled boots which were most definitely suitable for walking in, a pair that would have been perfectly impossible for her to _‘fall out of’_ no matter what had happened. Thankfully, however, her son was far too young to catch her on her blatantly obvious lie.

Penelope, or Madame Pomfrey as she should be known, arrived first and quickly set about healing the deep scratches to Narcissa’s face. It was a painful procedure, the spells she had to use causing her entire face to sting, but she grit her teeth and smiled through it for the sake of her son who watched everything closely. Severus arrived a moment later and began brewing a couple of potions, one to help with the pain and one to heal her broken ribs.

“Narcissa, I feel I must ask how you came about these injuries…?” Penelope murmured once she had finished dealing with the wounds to her face and had begun cleaning up the scrapes to her hands and forearms. She glanced discretely towards Lucius. “You know can tell me…”

“No,” Narcissa countered. She glanced down at her son before answering softly. “I visited my parents today, to let them know about our leaving the country. And then I fell over.”

It was amusing to see both Penelope and Severus adopt the same scowl as they correctly interpreted her carefully structured explanation. She had met Severus through his friendship with Lucius but they themselves had bonded over the fact that their parents were less than ideal, prone to violence although she had been spared the horrific extremes Severus had been put through by his brute of a father. Penelope was simply a good healer, often intuitive to a fault and more than a little bit suspicious, perceptive of the little details.

“I hate to rush you but we have a rather strict timetable to keep to,” Narcissa murmured, nodding towards where Lucius was admittedly reluctantly continuing to shrink their possessions so that they could be carried in a single suitcase. Narbey had arrived with her things shortly before her own arrival. “Draco, have you finished packing up your things?”

“Yes,” Draco responded automatically before gasping loudly. “No!”

Hopping down from her lap the little boy tore out of the room, his smart little shoes thudding on the stone floor of the hallways until he reached the stairs at which point they heard him thudding up the wooden stairs as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

“I want you to call me if you experience any lingering pain or problems,” Penelope ordered as she finished up, rising from the crouched position she had been working in and smoothing out the fabric of her skirt. She’d obviously come straight from work as she still wore the distinct uniform of a hospital matron. “Especially in regards to those ribs of yours.”

Narcissa agreed readily, thanking the healer before Lucius escorted her out.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Severus murmured from where he was packing up his potion-making supplies. “You’re giving Draco the chances in life he deserves, not to mention you and Lucius. This world is not kind to those of us who were forced to follow the Dark Lord.”

“You could come with us,” she pointed out softly, rubbing a hand across the ribs she had hurt which were now tingling strangely as they healed. “You did what was asked of you, Severus. You became a spy for the ight at your own expense. If anyone deserves the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and get a fresh start it’s you. Lucius, don’t you agree?”

“Don’t bring me into it, Cissa,” Lucius chuckled sadly as he placed another shrunken piece of furniture into the suitcase. “I’ve been trying to convince him to come with us for weeks.”

Severus sighed sadly.

He looked tired; his skin even paler than usual, his eyes circled by a ring of darkness whilst his thick, inky black hair hung limply around his face. It was so desperately in need of a wash that she considered pinning him down and scrubbing his hair clean like she sometimes had to do with Draco who had never been a fan of bath time, not even when he’d been a baby.

“I wish I could,” he admitted softly, a look of genuine regret on his less than handsome yet still pleasantly striking features. “Not only have I entered into a teaching contract at Hogwarts I cannot abandon her child any sooner than you could abandon yours.”

There was no need for her to enquire as to who _“her child”_ referred to.

Severus had attempted to keep his love of Lily Evans a secret at first but Narcissa had seen straight through it with the help of Lucius who, despite protesting the contrary, was a terrible gossip who loved to report everything and anything he’d seen or heard during the day. The day Lily Evans had married James Potter Severus had been forced to spend the night in their spare room after indulging in a significant (and worrying) amount of alcohol.

“I thought he had been sent to live with his relatives,” Lucius pointed out as he helped his wife to her feet, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. He then carefully shrunk his armchair, the last piece of furniture in the large room. “Muggles, or so I had heard.”

“You heard correctly,” Severus confirmed, shrinking his supplies and slipped them into one of his pockets. “But one day he will be old enough to attend Hogwarts where I will be able to look out for him. I need to cement my position as a member of the faculty until then.”

Just at that moment Draco came thudding back down the stairs, sprinting into the room with his favourite stuffed animal clutched in his arms. Due to his name most of Draco’s toys were dragons but none of these had ranked as his all-time favourite. No, the toy that was dragged around by him almost constantly was a fluffy light brown rabbit with long ears.

“Draco! Don’t forget you almost forgot _Peter Rabbit_?” Narcissa cried out dramatically, reaching down to straighten the blue jacket the much loved stuffed toy wore. It had been a gift from Andromeda, a representation of the main character of one of Draco’s favourite story books by the muggle author, Beatrix Potter. “Whatever would have happened to _Flopsy, Mopsey_ and _Cotton-Tail_ if their brother hadn’t made the move with them?”

“I wasn’t going to forget him!” Draco protested. “I just didn’t want to pack him away in the dark suitcase. _Peter Rabbit_ doesn’t like the dark. It’s full of monsters and people in masks.”

And didn’t that cause all of their hearts to clench, that Draco was old enough for one of his fears to be of people wearing masks. This no doubt stemmed from the times he’d accidently witness his father returning from performing tasks for the Dark Lord wearing his distractive and purposefully frightening Death Eater mask. It had scared Narcissa the first time she’d seen it so no doubt it had scared their son, the metallic skull lingering in his young mind.

“You’ll have to hold on tight to _Peter Rabbit_ when we travel or you might lose him,” Lucius, the first of the three adults to recover, informed him. Draco nodded so vigorously his platinum blond hair fell into his eyes. “How about you say goodbye to Uncle Severus whilst mummy and I get the house all shut up? It’s almost time for us to go to our new house.”

Draco was _very_ excited about the prospect of moving house.

“I should never have let you go by yourself today,” Lucius murmured, his voice noticeably choked as he followed his wife out of the room. Simultaneously they raised their wands, both made of smooth black wood, and began casting spells to lock all of the windows and close up the shutters, to cover the chandeliers and any furniture they weren’t taking with them in dust sheets. “I knew how they were react and still I let you face them alone.”

Narcissa placed a hand gently on his arm.

“I couldn’t have faced them knowing that Draco was unprotected,” she admitted softly, thinking of how her older sister had always been a fraction _too_ interested in Draco before she’d finally gone too far and been arrested. Apolline had been almost as bad before she married and had a child of her own, a daughter she’d named Fleur after her husband’s grandmother. “I had no idea she would react as violently as she did but I’ll be all right. I’ll be better once we’ve settled into our new home and can begin our new lives together.”

It was all she’d been able to think about for weeks.

Lucius finished closing up the house by locking the front door and strengthening the wards around the vast property. Linking her arm through his the couple shared a loving kiss before re-joining their son who was busy regaling his godfather with the latest adventure he’d had with _Peter Rabbit_ and how they were both excited about seeing their new bedroom.

“Draco, time to go,” Narcissa called out, opening her arms to pick up her son but Lucius beat her to it. He responded to her frown by gesturing towards her still healing ribs. “I’m fine.”

“There’s no need to aggravate your ribs any more than they already will be simply by travelling via international apparation,” her husband responded calmly as he settled his son on his hip, locking his arm around Draco’s squirming body. “Would you mind carrying the suitcase? It has a feather-light charm on it to counteract the internal expansion charm.”

Glaring softly at her husband Narcissa made a show of picking up the suitcase.

“We’ll be expecting you around for Sunday lunch next week, Severus,” she informed him firmly, stepping forwards in order to press a kiss to his cheek. “12 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Wisely the young man in question chose not to argue with her.

Offering their friend’s one final wave the family apparated to the international apparation point, Severus apparating back to Hogsmeade village at the same moment. It was understandably busy at the international apparation point with people arriving and departing for both business and pleasure, sometimes families like the Malfoys, sometimes individual men and women dressed in their smartest robes. They checked in at the registration desk, Lucius handing over the parchment granting them their departure slot, and then made their way to the queue for the _Central European Apparation Point_.

They’d agonised about where to go for their new start and had eventually decided to purchase a comfortable house in the magical village of _‘Bâtons Croisés’_ which was located to the north of the muggle city _Lausanne_ in Switzerland. _‘Bâtons Croisés’_ was well-known for being something of a progressive community, forward thinking and very welcoming. Of the people they’d been in contact to regarding the house sale and getting the place ready for them they had had no trouble at all, not even when their wartime affiliations had come up.

Draco had fallen unusually silent by the time they took their place inside the roped off area.

“Time to begin our new adventure, my little dragon.”

~ * ~

 **A/N –** Don’t ask me where this idea came from. I was literally driving home from work one day and thought to myself, “I wonder what would happen if you swapped Draco and Fleur around” and…well…apparently that was enough for my brain to latch on to and not let go until I started planning and then subsequently writing. I’ve got a rough idea of where this is going to go but I am definitely open to suggestions. Comments also welcome. X


	2. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

 **A/N** \- Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the “scene is being set”, I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Chapter One. 1994.**

If it hadn't been for everything that had happened at the Quidditch World Cup during the summer the way everyone had been behaving might have been amusing, the half-sentences a sign of an amusing or exciting secret but as it was they just served to make him all the more paranoid about the coming school year. His only comfort was the fact that Ron and Hermione, his best friends since their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were just as confused as he was by everyone's strange behaviour that morning.

“I might be seeing you all sooner than you think,” Charlie, Ron’s second oldest brother, chuckled brightly when they returned from storing their trunks in the guards van. Still grinning he reached out to give Ginny, Ron’s younger sister and the first female born into the Weasley family for generations, a hug so tight he accidentally lifted her off of her feet.

“Why?” Fred, the eldest Weasley twin, demanded.

“You'll see,” Charlie responded, his cheerful manner doing absolutely nothing to ease the worry building in Harry's chest at the ominous words. “Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it…it's ‘ _classified information until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it_ ’ after all.”

Given his past dealing with Ministry of Magic the knowledge that they had a hand in the secrecy only served to make Harry frown deeper. They'd tried to expel him the previous year, after all, for defending his muggle cousin from a bunch of Dementors and they were the ones who had forced Sirius, his Godfather and the closest link he had to his deceased parents, to go on the run after having wrongly imprisoned him for a crime he didn't commit.

No, Harry definitely wasn't comforted to know that the Ministry was involved somehow.

“Yeah,” Bill, Ron’s eldest brother who wore his flaming red hair in an effortlessly cool looking ponytail which his mother kept threatening to chop off, sighed deeply as he gazed wistfully at the train, hands in his pockets. “I sort of wish I was back at Hogwarts this year.”

“ _Why_?” George, the younger Weasley twin, demanded impatiently,

“You're going to have an interesting year,” Bill responded, his eyes twinkling even as his words filled Harry with dread. Every year thus far had been an _interesting_ _year_ for him and his friends, ranging from confronting a psychotic professor who had another man’s head underneath his turban to fighting a basilisk to being attacked by Dementors. He'd been hoping for a painfully quiet year. “I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it…”

“A bit of _what_?”

Ron had been Harry's first ever friend, ever since they'd sat together on their way to Hogwarts for their first year. His friend had welcomed him into his wonderful wacky family without a second thought, even going so far as to break him out of his bedroom after his muggle relatives had locked him up during the summer between his first and second years, using his dad's flying car to do so and had become something akin to a brother to Harry.

Unfortunately his redheaded friends exasperated question was answered by the trains whistle offering up three sharp blasts, prompting parents up and down the station to begin saying their final goodbyes and ensuring the students boarded safely. Mrs Weasley was no exception, immediately stepping forwards and chivvying them towards the train doors.

“Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione murmured politely as they climbed on board, closing the door and leaning out of the open window in order the squeeze in their final goodbyes. Only four of them could fit, however, so the twins were pushed back and were forced to jump and down in order to see their mother over the group at the door.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, reminded of his manners by his muggleborn friend as he held Ginny steady in front of him as the girl wobbled. “Thanks for everything, Mrs Weasley.”

Hermione hadn't been his friend to begin with, the terrible don't doing nothing to win any of their favours until she had lied to protect Harry and Ron after the _unfortunate incident_ with the troll in the girl’s bathroom. Ever since then the three of them had been nigh on inseparable and both his and Ron's grades had benefited from the unexpected friendship, the female member of their trio a literal sponge for knowledge. There was a reason so many of the teachers referred to her as “ _the smartest witch of their age_.” Hermione was brilliant.

“Oh, it was my pleasure, dears,” said Mrs Weasley. “I'd invite you for Christmas, but…well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with…one thing and another.”

“Mum!” Ron cried out irritably. “What d’you three know that we don't?”

Behind their mother Bill and Charlie shared a secretive smirk and a deep chuckle.

“You'll find out this evening, I expect,” was Mrs Weasley's ever so calm response, her smile never faltering. “It's going to be very exciting – mind you, I'm glad they've change the rules.”

“ _What_ rules?” Harry demanded alongside, Ron, Fred and George. Neither Hermione nor Ginny seemed all that bothered by the secrecy although Hermione did look rather nervous.

“I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you,” Mrs Weasley responded calmly before fixing her gaze on the two identical faces appearing and disappearing behind those of the others. “Now, behave, won't you? _Won't_ you, Fred? And you, George? I don't want any more…”

A combination of hissing and clunking sounds filled the air as the train began to move.

“Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts?” Fred bellowed out of the window after forcing his way through the others, literally pushing them aside in his haste which left Harry pressing Ginny up against the partition wall. George followed his twin, plastering himself to the others back as he too leaned his head out of the window. “What rules are they changing?”

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, pulling himself away from the blushing thirteen year old girl even as the twin’s demands went unanswered and the platform disappeared completely from view. Letting out a huff the twins pulled the window closed with a loud bang and stormed off to find out what their group of friends knew. “Let's go and find a compartment, guys.”

Ron and Hermione had been forced into a similar position as Harry and Ginny and seemed equally as embarrassed about it, springing apart and eagerly hurrying along the corridor. Poor Ginny was left standing alone for a long moment as Harry hurried after his friends before the infatuated third year let out a deep sigh and set off to find her own friends.

“This one’s free,” Hermione announced, relieved, and ducked into the compartment. She settled down onto one of the long bench seats, the ancient springs protesting loudly. “Come on, Ron. No point worrying about it now. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.”

“But Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts, remember?” the most volatile of the three of them huffed as he dropped down onto the other bench seat. Harry, as the last in, turned around on the spot and began struggling to pull the stiff sliding door closed. “At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what – ”

A flash of white-blonde hair prompted Harry to hiss sharply, abandoning his attempt to close the door and leaving it open a crack as he hurried to take the seat beside Hermione.

“Shh!” he hissed once more, nodding towards the door. “Listen.”

Within seconds of him holding his finger to his lips the voice of their sworn enemy filtered through the crack in the door, the Slytherin’s having chosen the compartment next to theirs to take over by literally dragging the poor souls already sat inside it out by their collars.

“…Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see,” Fleur DeLacour announced as pompously as ever, her clipped voice breaking through the frightened whimpers of the students hurrying away from them like a knife. Harry could easily picture her standing with one hand on her hip, nails filed into the deadly talons she usually favoured, the other flipping her long hair over her shoulders as she pulled back her shoulders to show of her breasts. “Well, you know his opinions of Dumbledore, Mothers too – the man’s such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learn_ them, not just the defence rubbish we do…”

It was Hermione who jumped up from her seat and proceeded to slam the door closed.

“So she thinks Durmstrang would have suited her, does she?” she huffed angrily as she returned to her seat, producing a worryingly thick book seemingly from nowhere and opening it on her lap. “I wish she _had_ gone, then we wouldn't have had to put up with her.”

Harry, as was becoming more and more common just lately, was struck with confusion.

“…Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, flicking through the pages of her book far too quickly to actually be reading them. She was probably looking for her place, he realised, remembering the fact that she didn't like to use bookmarks in case they damaged the pages and that she considered dog-earring pages to be a crime. “And it's got a horrible reputation. According to ‘ _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ ’ it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.”

“I think I've heard of it,” Ron mumbled from where he had already opened up his sandwiches and stuffed half of one in his mouth. “Ugh. Plum. Where is it? What country?”

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” Hermione scolded him automatically, grimacing at the unpleasantly familiar sight before her. “And nobody knows where the school is, obviously.”

“Er…why not?”

“There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all of the magic schools,” Hermione answered, her voice much gentler now that she was addressing Harry. “Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts to that no one can steal their secrets.”

Harry was still struggling to process the fact that there were apparently other magical schools no one had ever bothered to tell him about whilst Hermione and Ron argued about the practicalities of “hiding” and entire school. This argument, of course, led to an entirely too factual explanation from Hermione about the various techniques they could have used.

“…or it might have Muggle-Repelling Charms on it, like the World Cup Stadium,” Hermione was explaining matter-of-factly when he tuned back into the conversation. “And to keep foreign witches and wizards from finding it they'll have made it Unplottable – ”

“Come again?”

“Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?”

“Er…if you say so…”

Harry took comfort in the fact that Ron seemed equally as surprised by this knowledge, reassuring him that it wasn't just his muggle upbringing keeping him in the dark this time. Ron was a pureblood, like Fleur only nicer, so it was obviously just a case of Hermione spending far too much time in the library, yet again, rather than him not being told things.

“But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,” Hermione mused thoughtfully, returning her attention to her book and the search for her place amongst the pages. “Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms.”

“Think of the possibilities,” Ron chuckled, slumping down and stretching his legs out to rest on the seat opposite, much to Hermione’s disapproval, as his hands absentmindedly brought the other half of his sandwich to his mouth. “It would've been so easy to push DeLacour off a glacier and make it look like an accident…shame her mother likes her…”

It was reassuring that nothing out of the ordinary happened for the remainder of the journey, unlike last year when the Dementors had attacked, and that the most exciting moment had been when Seamus, Dean and Neville had tumbled into their compartment sparking a rather heated debate about the match between Ireland and Bulgaria. Neville hadn't been able to convince his grandmother to get them tickets so he was more than eager to listen to every single detail as told by the people who had actually been there.

Even the confrontation with DeLacour had been somewhat predictable in that it had happened although some of her comments were just as vague as Mrs Weasley's and Ron’s older brothers had been back on the station, meaning that she knew something they didn't.

“So…going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name?” she'd giggled derisively from the door which had been left open since their friends had joined them. Her stance had been exactly how Harry had pictured it in his mind. “There's money involved as well, you know…you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won…”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _Are you going to enter_?” Fleur had responded to Ron's angry question by repeating her own much slower, intoning it as though she were speaking to a child. It had made all of their blood boil. “I suppose _you_ will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?”

Harry was relieved every single time he spoke to his rival that he had turned down her _gracious_ offer of friendship on their first night at the castle back in their First Year. He genuinely couldn't imagine being friends with someone so heartless, vindictive and cruel.

“Either explain what you're on about or go away, DeLacour,” Hermione had said testily over the top of her book which had turned out to be ‘ _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four_.’

The smile that Fleur had offered them could only be described as gleefully smug.

“Don't tell me you don't _know_?” she had crowed delightfully, flicking her hair back dramatically as her gaggle of cronies chuckled along with her. Crabbe and Goyle followed her around like a pair of lovesick puppies, ogling her breasts as soon as they had begun to show last year and obeying her every whim. Pansy Parkinson loathed her, everyone knew that, but she also knew that it was better to be friends with the girl she was jealous of than to be her enemy and so she played the role of best girl friend very well. Blaise Zabini was the smartest in their group, dark and mysterious whilst Theodore Knott was amazingly shy for a member of Slytherin house. He was a sheep, plain and simple, and did whatever his friends did. Pike, the thug, was there as always even though no one really liked him. “You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't ever _know_? My God, _my_ father told me about it ages ago…heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry…maybe your fathers too junior to know about it, Weasley…yes…they probably don't talk about the important stuff in front of him.”

Harry really couldn't blame Ron for slamming the door shut with enough force to break the glass in the window following the Slytherin gang’s departure, heading off in search of the trolley and poor students to torment, not after what had been said regarding his family.

Thankfully Hermione had been able to fix the damage with a quick flick of her wand.

By the time they alighted from the train, calling out a cheerful greeting to Hagrid as they did so, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and it was a bit of a mad scramble to get to the carriages before they were all soaked to the skin. None of them envied the poor first years who were being herded towards the lake which currently looked like something out of a horror movie to Harry, the water churning unpleasantly, by the schools resident half-giant.

“Oooh,” Hermione literally shuddered as the three of them climbed into the relative shelter of the carriage behind Neville. “I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather.”

It was another mad dash at the other end of the short journey, the four of them sprinting up the stone steps in order to get inside the grand building which served as their school without getting too wet in the torrential downpour. Unfortunately a run in with the schools most mischievous poltergeist left Ron completely soaked from head to toe anyway, Peeves delighting in causing chaos as he dropped enormous water balloons down on top of them.

Harry's shoes and socks suffered when one landed on the floor in front of him.

“Bloody hell…” Ron grumbled, shaking the water off of his hands after Professor McGonagall had arrived at the scene of the crime, her threat to fetch the Headmaster enough to send the poltergeist on his way but not before bed dropped the last of his water bombs on a group of second years who had just hurried in through the doors. “I hope he got Fleur…”

A quick glance towards the Slytherin table as they entered the Great Hall unfortunately proved otherwise, the glamorous fourteen year old checking her makeup on a compact mirror. It didn't look like she'd gotten wet at all, not even when she was outside in the rain.

“Typical…”

“Hiya, Harry!”

The excitable voice of Colin Creevey, a third year Gryffindor who had something of a crush on Harry, interrupted Ron before the dripping wet teen could even begin to truly complain about the unfairness of the situation. Despite being thirteen Colin was positively tiny, so small he could probably have passed for a first year had he wanted to. He clutched his old-fashioned magical camera to his chest, thankfully unused thus far, as he dropped do into the seat beside Harry, forcing Ron and Hermione to take the two empty places on his other side.

“Hi, Colin.”

“Harry, guess what?” Colin gasped loudly, practically vibrating in his seat as he was overcome with excitement. Hermione offered him an indulgent smile, her fondness for the overexcitable founder of Harry's fan club well known. Ron merely grumbled about being cold and hungry. “Guess what, Harry? My brothers starting! My brother Dennis!”

“Er…good…”

Even as he smiled down at the now bouncing boy he couldn't help but share a slightly terrified look with Hermione. Colin he could handle, in small doses, but _two_ of them?

“He's really excited!” Colin announced, loud enough for anyone sitting nearby them to hear. They were halfway down the long table and it was mostly the fourth and fifth years who had all adopted the same half-horrified look as Harry. In fact Colin was the only third year anywhere near them. “I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?”

Harry promised he would. Siblings generally ended up in the same house, like the Weasley, but that wasn't set in stone. Parvati’s twin sister, Padma, was in Ravenclaw and as Hermione had mumbled thoughtfully you'd expect identical twins, of all people, to end up together.

He couldn't decide if he want Colin's little brother to with the, or not, although that was rather selfish as it would be better for the younger boy to be in the same house as his brother. It would help him settle in and make friends, having someone familiar to go to.

All four house tables had filled up by the time the magical sky above them began to light up with beautiful streaks of lightening, mirroring the sky outside, and get there was still no sign of the first years. This was unusual but given the weather also completely understandable.

“Where's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

Hermione’s query drew all of their attention to the top table which had several more empty seats than usual, McGonagall and Hagrid predictably amongst the missing faculty members.

“Maybe they couldn't get anyone!”

His studious friend sounded so distraught over the idea of missing out on one of her precious classes that Harry couldn't help but snort, his eyes moving slowly along the varied faces of the faculty members. Most looked anxious, worrying for the new students travelling across the lake, but Snape as per usual wore a mask of indifference tinged with annoyance.

A sigh of relief escaped a large portion of the Great Halls occupants when the doors swing open to reveal Professor McGonagall leading a bedraggled gaggle of eleven year olds inside.

Colin's brother was easy to spot amongst the group, his face dominated by a beaming smile whilst all of the others looked understandably nervous. And cold, they all looked very, very cold. They were all soaked but none more so than Colin's brother who had been given what appeared to be Hagrid’s coat to wear over his completely soaked uniform and black robes.

His eyes sought out his brothers beside Harry and he gave the older boy a thumbs up.

“I fell in the lake!”

He looked positively delighted about this fact so it was no surprise when a short while later the tiny boy was sorted into Gryffindor, sprinting to join his brother with an infectious laugh.

Given that they were all anxiously awaiting the arrival of the feast the sorting seemed to drag on and on, an endless stream of new students joining the houses they'd been given. As usual there was a pretty even spread between the houses although there were a few more Hufflepuff’s than usual this year, the “ _unremarkable_ ” house welcoming eight new students.

Harry didn't know why people ignored Hufflepuff or hoped that they wouldn't be sorted into the yellow house with almost as much fervour as they hoped not to be placed in Slytherin. All of the Hufflepuff's he knew were all hard-working and loyal almost to a fault. They got along with everyone, even some of the Slytherin’s, and never seemed to listen to rumours.

Well, apart from that time when some of them believed Harry was the heir of Slytherin but to be honest they could be excused for thinking that as the evidence against him had been pretty damning for a while. But unlike everyone else the Hufflepuff's had at least apologised to him for believing the rumours, even Justin Finch-Fletchly who had been on the receiving end of the infamous snake incident. And they had a _really_ good Quidditch team to boot.

No, Harry definitely didn't get why people didn't like Hufflepuff.

Eventually Dumbledore climbed to his feet, effortlessly silencing the entire room as he offered the gathered students a smile and spread his arms wide, his palms facing up.

“I have only two words to say to you – _tuck in_.”

Harry and Ron fell upon the food like they hadn't eaten in days rather than the mere hours it had been whilst Hermione, as per usual, took a much more sedate pace and loaded up her plate only after careful consideration of what she wanted to eat. Harry loaded up his with anything that was within easy reaching distance. Ron didn't bother to load his plate at all.

In the end the meal which had been so long in coming passed by far too quickly with only one incident happening to disrupt them in their endeavour to fill their stomachs, that being when Nearly Headless Nick had brought up the fact that Hogwarts was home to the largest number of House Elves dwelling in Britain. Hermione had been utterly horrified, refusing to touch another bit of the delicious meal in a show of disgust for the careless treatment of the House Elves rights. She wouldn't listen to Ron or their house ghost when both of them tried to reassure her that most House Elves were more than happy with the way they lived, that the House Elves at Hogwarts were some of the best rested in Britain if not the world.

“Slave labour,” she had announced, her voice thick with disgust as she pushed her almost full plate away from her, breathing heavily. “That's what made this dinner. _Slave labour_.”

Harry had only met two House Elves in his life, Dobby and Winky, but he suspected that were there more like the former out there they would have had an uprising long before now. Poor Winky _had_ been abused and Hermione was right about the fact that they should be protected in circumstances such as that, where their employers mistreat them or cause them harm, but if what Nearly Headless Nick said about the elves at Hogwarts was true, that they were all happy and enjoyed their lives, shouldn’t they just be left alone to live them?

“So,” Dumbledore announced as he rose to his feet, waving a single hand to clear away the empty plates and bowls from the various tables. “Now that you are all fed and watered I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle this…”

Harry was pretty sure he wasn't the only student who had stopped paying attention as soon as Mr Filch’s name was mentioned. Given that the caretaker had had it out for him and his friends ever since their first day of school when he and Ron had gotten lost and ended up in an area which had been deemed “out of bounds” (a polite way for saying that there was a three-headed dog protecting the secret entrance to a series of tests which had been designed to protect one of the most powerful and rare magical gemstones on the planet) it was hardly surprising that with his continued efforts to make their lives a misery they had all settled into a mutual hate/hate relationship. Thus was it really any wonder that he had several much better things to do than listen to notices from the sadistic Argus Filch.

Like daydreaming about Cho Chang, for example…

He had been captivated by the Ravenclaw Seeker, the only girl on their team, since the first match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw the year before. Just seeing her pretty face and stunning smile made his stomach feel funny, like there was a giant butterfly trapped inside it. The thought of seeing her again had been one of the things get him through his time with the Dursley's before he had been spirited away to attend the World Cup with the Weasley's.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year,” Dumbledore’s apologetic voice dragged his thoughts back to the address being given, prompting him to react loudly along with his fellow pupils. No Quidditch? That…that was unimaginable… “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy.”

Huh.

Could this “event” be what everyone was avoiding speaking about for one reason or another? The Weasley's so as not to ruin the surprise, DeLacour to annoy their group?

“But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely,” Dumbledore continued, his tone reassuring as the students slowly calmed down from the state of uproar. Some students still looked almost murderous and Harry wasn't at all surprised to realise that most of them were the seventh year players for whom this would have been their last year playing Quidditch at the school. He felt for them. “I have great pleasure. Announcing that this year at Hogwarts – ”

Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the enchanted sky above their heads going completely an utterly mental, thunder crashing, lightning flashing and real rain pouring down on top of the students who reacted loudly in fearful surprise, covering their heads even as a magical spell was shot up into the ceiling from the corner of the large room.

“Bloody hell…” Ron breathed out deeply in shock as the ceiling calmed down above them, the caster of the powerful spell slowly limping his way across to Professor Dumbledore. He was unlike anyone Harry had ever seen before; every inch of exposed skin seemed to be covered with a horrific patchwork of scars and one of his eyes seemed to be artificial, held into the socket by an old collection of leather straps and buckles. “It's Made-Eye Moody.”

“Alastair Moody?” Hermione gasped, her eyes going wide. “The Auror?”

“Auror?” Dean Thomas, one of the few students in Harry's year and house who had been raised in an entirely muggle household like he had enquired, obviously as clueless about the title as Harry himself was. There was some debate about whether or not Dean’s father, who had died when he was young, had been a wizard but nothing had ever been confirmed. The boy in question was more than happy to consider himself a muggleborn like Hermione, supporting his favourite football team vigorously and regularly becoming completely obsessed with muggle television shows and movies when he went home for the holidays.

“Dark-Wizard catcher,” Ron answered before Hermione could launch into a more factual explanation, much to her annoyance. “Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him.”

Harry was understandably impressed, his eyes going almost comically wide with admiration.

“He's supposed to be mad as a hatter, these days,” Ron continued softly. “Dad says – ”

“My dear old friend,” Dumbledore's voice carried over to them. “Thanks for coming.”

“Stupid ceiling.”

Moody’s voice was a rough as his appearance.

“What's that he's drinking, do you suppose?” Seamus, their Irish friend, supposed loudly as they all watched Moody take a long drink from a strange looking hip-flask. He was Dean’s best friend and prone to mischief, almost as much as the Weasley twins although he was not nearly so inventive about it. He was also something of a snob and rather filthy minded.

“I don't know,” Harry responded as Moody visibly shuddered after swallowing, his artificial eye spinning, dropping the flask into his jacket pocket. “But I don't think its pumpkin juice.”

“May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dumbledore announced as the man in question limped over to the empty seat left for him. “Professor Moody.”

They were going to be taught Defence by a dark-wizard catcher?

Harry got the feeling this was either going to be really good for them or really, _really_ bad.

“Now, as I was saying we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the course of the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century,” Dumbledore continued, drawing their gazes away from Moody and over to where he stood positively beaming down at them, his eyes twinkling bright. “It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You're _joking_!”

Fred’s incredulous accusation broke through the stunned silence which had fallen following the declaration, causing nearly everyone to laugh softly. Even Dumbledore chuckled deeply.

Dumbledore seemed to lose track of himself for a moment, behave like the forgetful old man he appeared to be and going on about an excellent joke he'd heard regarding a troll, a hag and a leprechaun walking into a bar. They'd never get to hear the punchline as a Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, breaking his unexpected train of thought.

“Perhaps another time…” he mumbled, offering the deputy headmistress an apologetic smile before focusing on the students gazing up at him once more. “Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you might not know what this Tournament involves so I hope those of you who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation.”

Harry wasn't the only one to twist around in his seat, getting himself into a more comfortable position as he prepared to listen to what would undoubtedly be an unfortunately long winded explanation of the tournament. Long winded but necessary.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the European schools of wizardry – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the Tournament once every five years and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent was of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities – until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued.”

“ _Death toll_?”

Harry reached across to pat his friends hand reassuringly after hearing her gasp loudly in shock but he kept the majority of his attention on what Professor Dumbledore was saying.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament, none of which have been very successful,” Dumbledore continued calmly. “However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-Operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time no champion shall find himself or herself in mortal danger.”

Most of the students seemed very excited by the prospect of the Tournament and Harry had to admit it did sound like it would a fun thing to witness. He couldn't imagine putting his name forward as champion, however, given that his life was already difficult enough as it was. What did he need with most exposure in the media and a dangerous contest to win?

No, he was support those who did put their names in but would keep himself well away.

“The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

An excited rumble of students announcing to their friends that they were going to put their names in filled the air for a long moment, Fred and George sharing a blatant high-five where they sat further along the Gryffindor table. Even the Slytherin's, normally so cool and composed, had been caught up in the excitement and were whispering back and forth. At the Ravenclaw table it was obvious that students were trying to justify why they would make the best Hogwarts Champion, using logic and facts, whilst Hufflepuff was rapidly descending into a mess of giggles and nudging as they put each other's names forward.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year,” Dumbledore interrupted the seemingly premature celebrations, silencing the premature celebrations. “Only students who are of age, that is to say seventeen years or older, will be allowed to put their names for consideration.”

This time it was a rumble of outrage which spread like wildfire throughout the students.

“This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts Champion,” Dumbledore continued, fixing his gaze pointedly on the Weasley twins who had already begun discussing different ways they could still get their names entered. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under the age of seventeen.”

Personally Harry thought that anyone who was under the age of seventeen and still wanted to put their name in for such a notoriously dangerous competition was clinically insane.

Hermione seemed to agree with him although Ron looked almost as put out as his brothers.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and will be remaining with us for the greater part of this year,” Dumbledore continued calmly as though he hadn't just dashed so many students dreams of glory and riches. Some were visibly upset although most still looked angry. “I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give you’re whole-hearted supported to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is for you all to be alert and rest as you enter your lessons tomorrow. Bedtime! Chop chop!”

The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone could talk about on the way back to their dormitories, packs of excited, frustrated, disappointed or just plain angry students hurrying along the corridors or up and down the changeable staircases. Unsurprisingly the twins were still determined to enter despite being underage and Ron was wholeheartedly encouraging them, his eyes glazed over with the thought of the prize money.

Hermione was disgusted by them, muttering about the death tolls which had been mentioned, whilst poor Neville had seemed utterly terrified by the prospect of entering.

Harry himself thought that, while he didn't particular fancy entering himself having spent too much time in the spotlight already being The-Boy-Who-Lived, he couldn't blame his friends for wanting to have a go. It was definitely going to be an interesting year…

~ * ~

Reclining against the headboard of his ridiculously large bed Draco couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to deserve friends like the ones currently surrounding him. He also couldn't decide whether or not he meant that to be a happy, relieved thought or an exasperate one.

Currently his one female friend, Ramona, was busy covering the walls and ceiling of his room with a mixture of brightly coloured drapes, magical posters and enchanted fairy lights. She hadn't asked permission to do so just as she wouldn't have asked permission to “sort out” her brother, Javier's, room or the room of the final member of their quartet, Claude.

“How come Draco gets fairy lights and I don't?” Claude pouted from where he was stretched out on the ridiculously soft rug in front of the roaring fireplace. He'd stripped down to just his undershirt and uniform trousers, kicking off his shoes, and was meant to be working on his History of Magic essay but had been doodling for nearly an hour already so obviously it wasn't going well. “Ramona? Am I not your favourite anymore? Am I so easily replaced?”

“You were never my favourite, Claude,” Ramona snorted, to which he pretended to have been shot in the heart, gasping dramatically. Javier snorted, throwing a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans at his boyfriend who proceeded to catch three of them in his mouth, celebrating accordingly. “And I would have given you fairy lights had you not ended up sharing a room with Gerard Argent, Mr _by-the-book-so-serious-would-never-put-a-toe-out-line-and-will-stab-you-in-the-back_ himself. He'd have told Madame and you know it.”

Technically speaking students were permitted to decorate their rooms but, as Ramona had been reminded on several occasions since her talent as an amateur interior designer had begun to blossom during their fourth year, there was a limit to what was actually allowed.

Draco smiled fondly before enquiringly of his female friend,

“Who've you ended up rooming with?”

Throughout their school lives pupils at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic slept not in crowded dormitories like most boarding schools but in reasonably large rooms with no more than three pupils per room. Each year the Head Boy and Head Girl were the only students given a private room of their own, complete with en suite bathroom, in their relevant house building. House Prefects, such as his friends, received no special treatment regarding their bedrooms although there was a Prefects bathroom in each of the three grand buildings.

“Josephine Villeneuve,” Ramona answered, struggling with the French pronunciations a little bit given her naturally thick Spanish accent even when speaking English as was a requirement of the school. Every day the school spoke in a different language, supposedly to teach the students how to survive in a “multi-cultural magical world” despite the fact that translation spells were covered in their third year. “Which isn't so bad, all things considered. She doesn't mind what I do with my side of the room so long as it doesn't interfere with her filing system. I'm hoping to convince her to let me brighten her side up a bit, though…”

“Who are you with, Javi?” Claude enquired, munching happily on the sweets he'd been thrown having given up on completing his essay. “It better not be Fabian Houtman…”

“Careful, Claude,” Draco snorted softly. “Your teenage jealousy is showing again…”

Javier and Fabian had been a “thing” before Javier and Claude has become a “thing” and so tensions continued to be a little bit strained between the hot-heated Frenchman and the handsome Dutchman despite the fact that said Dutchman was now dating Jacques Jordan.

“I'm not sharing with Fabian,” Javier reassured his boyfriend with a fond roll of his eyes, pausing to throw a handful of sweets into his mouth, grimacing at the taste the mixture of unusual flavours had created. “I'm sharing with Jan, Jan Boerefijn not Jan Mattheson.”

Claude grunted with approval.

Jan Boerefijn was very, very straight and something of a slut. He'd dated almost every girl in their year, Ramona included, and had slept with over half of them. Really, they should all hate him but he wasn't a horrible person, he didn't cheat on his girlfriends, his attentions never wandered from the person he was dating he just happened to date a lot. A lot a lot.

“There!” Ramona announced triumphantly, standing with her hands on her shapely hips as she surveyed the room. Unlike most of the girls in their year who were determined not to put on an ounce of weight if they could help it his friend had accepted the fact that her body wanted her to be “cuddly” like her mother was. She wasn't fat by any means, there was just more meat on her bones than the others girls they knew. “Done! Although if we all enter the Triwizard Tournament like Madame wants us to I shall have to take it all down in a couple of weeks and transfer it to whatever accommodation we end up in for the duration.”

Madame Maxine had made it perfectly clear during the welcoming banquet that she expected every student who met the various requirements set down in the amended rules of the historical contest to put their name down for “consideration” by the end of the week.

All four of their group were eligible and more than capable of competing. Javier and Claude had already put their names down on the list, full of eagerness, and Ramona was planning to do so come the following morning. It was only Draco who had any serious reservations and although most of his peers assumed it was because of the well-known dangers involved in the contest (which had put off some students) it was actually because of the location;

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Draco's parents had never tried to hide their “past affiliations and indiscretions” from him, always willing to answer his questions openly and honestly from a young age although it had only been in the last few years that they had been willing to share absolutely everything with him. He understood shy they'd held a few things back; no young child should have to know that their parents had been forced to torture others or risk being tortured themselves, shouldn't have to learn of the “plan” which had been laid down for their life which had included joining the Dark Lords followers as a loyal puppet, shouldn't have to learn how twisted and evil their grandparents, their aunts and uncles, even their cousins truly were.

Thus he was well aware of the reputation the various branches of his family tree had back in England where the majority of the trouble had taken place. He knew what people said about the Malfoy family, that people assumed they'd fled so as not to face prosecution when in reality it was to escape the deadly clutches of both of their families and start a new life in peace. And, most importantly just then, he knew that his cousins who had no doubt been indoctrinated to follow in their parent’s footsteps were currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fleur, the eldest, was fourteen and Gabrielle, her sister, eleven.

“Draco?” Ramona called out softly, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Are you going to put your name down? Only I don't like the idea of us three going off and leaving you behind…”

Draco rolled his eyes towards her fondly, knowing full well that she wasn't implying that they'd miss him, rather that she was implying that he would need them and as much as it pained him to do so even just to himself she was probably right. As much as his parents had done their best to raise him to be good and honourable, something they had never been encouraged to be, he had still suffered from an alarming amount of jealousy and arrogance, particularly after he'd hit puberty. His mind had been conflicted, torn between the behaviour he'd been taught growing up and the unpleasantness growing within him but neither of his parents had been upset with him. When he'd gone to them, confused, they'd explained that unfortunately both jealousy and arrogance were traits of both their families.

 _Honestly,_ they'd reassured him, _we're just glad those are the only traits you've inherited…_

As reassuring as his parents words had been it had been his friends that had saved him, none of them afraid to correct him when he was in the wrong or point out when he was letting his “green side” as they referred to his jealousy get the better of him. They'd worked as a team, Claude, Javier and Ramona, to keep him from becoming his own worst enemy.

His arrogance, however, was still pretty strong but only when he had a reason to behave so.

“Just because you'll be in the same building as them doesn't mean you'll actually have to talk to them,” Javier piped up, correctly pinpointing the thing holding him back. Of the four of them he was the most perceptive at reading other people, gauging their moods in no time at all and somehow always knowing what to say. Unfortunately the same could not be said about the rest of them so when Javier himself was the one upset or in a foul mood it took them a little longer to pinpoint the reason and find a solution. “Honestly, if they're as brainwashed as your parents think they are then they probably won't want to talk to you anyway. You're a _blood traitor_ , remember? And anyway do you really want to spend our last year of school on separate continents, wasting what time we have left together like this?”

Draco snorted unattractively.

“Seriously, Javi?” he muttered, grinning despite his stern tone. “Emotional blackmail?”

Javier shrugged as best he could under the sudden onslaught of his boyfriend who had obviously grown tired of stretching out in front of the fire and had dropped down onto the bed alongside the trio, landing almost entirely on top of his boyfriend and snuggling his face into his neck with a content sigh. If there was one thing Claude loved to do it was snuggle and all three of them had been reduced to acting as his teddy bear on more than one occasion although since they'd begun dating he targeted his boyfriend almost exclusively.

“Sometimes a little emotional blackmail is called for,” he eventually announced once Claude had stopped moving around, having found his desired comfortable position. “Especially when your friend is being a bit of an idiot and worrying about things that don't really matter. You're cousins are evil minions. We all know that. Don't let them ruin our last year.”

“Just think of all the positive outcomes that could happen because of this,” Ramona tacked on eagerly, leaning against Draco's side in such a way that he was forced to lean against Javier's free side turning his bed into one big snuggle fest. “You're the only one of us to have ever been to England and you don't even remember it. None of us have seen any magical school but our own. Plus one of us could be selected as the Beauxbatons champion…”

“What she said,” Claude grunted in agreement, reaching out to rest his hand on Draco's chest beside Ramona’s hand. “Although technically Hogwarts is in Scotland, not England.”

“Seriously?” she grumbled, reaching out to flick the back of his neck. He flinched away from her, his hand shooting across to jab a finger into her side in retaliation which caused her to let out a sharp yelp. Ramona was very ticklish. “ _That's_ all you took from everything I said?”

“When arguing a case it is important to present the correct facts,” Claude argued quickly, grabbing hold of her wrist when she tried to flick his ear. “Otherwise it puts the other facts you stated into question which, considering how true they were, would be a problem?”

“If I agree to go will you stop behaving like toddlers?” Draco enquired, unable to fight the smile blossoming on his face. If there was one thing his friends could always do it was make him smile, more often than not at the most inappropriate moments. “You've convinced me, I'll go. Now would you please stop elbowing my in the ribs and rubbing your breasts against me? They're very lovely breasts, don't get me wrong, but I am pretty comfortable with my homosexuality and as such would rather not have them rubbed all over my upper body…”

His words, both his agreement to put his name down and his statement about the “unwelcome touching” quickly reduced the four of them to a mess of giggles, chuckles and outright laughter as they rearranged themselves into a slightly more relaxed snuggle fest.

“Maybe we'll even find you a boyfriend at Hogwarts, Draco,” Claude piped up after a moment, barely lifting his head from his own boyfriend’s chest. “You need to get over…”

It was an unspoken rule that none of them referred to Draco's ex-boyfriend by name.

They'd been together for almost two years, ever since Draco had come out as gay, and he'd thought their relationship was only going to get stronger as they grew older. Apparently his ex-boyfriend hadn't felt the same way, being two years older than Draco, and had dumped him the day before he'd graduated from Beauxbatons not the previous year but the year before, publicly informing the younger teen that he “wanted to be free to see whoever he wanted as he pursued his chosen career path” and that he “didn’t want to be tied to an underage wizard who couldn't contribute to his future plans.” It had been humiliating…

To say that Draco had taken it badly was a bit of an understatement.

He'd spent the summer following their break-up, if it could be called that, grieving for his lost love and his lost pride and then had spent the next year of school with a wall around his heart. He didn't date. He didn't flirt. Claude, Javier and Ramona were the only ones allowed to get close to him and that was only because they wouldn't leave him alone. This past summer he'd finally begun to heal, flirting with a couple of boys he'd met when her and his parents had gone on holiday to New Zealand but he'd never let it go any further than that.

“I am over twat-face,” Draco sighed deeply. “But that doesn't mean you can set me up with whoever you think would be good for me. If I find someone I want to date _I'll_ handle it, ok?”

Claude grumbled softly, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to play matchmaker with his single friend…until he remembered that Ramona was as footloose and fancy free as Draco.

“Ramona…”

“Oh, no,” she countered quickly, shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no…”

Draco smirked to himself, holding back his chuckles so as to keep the attention away from him for the moment. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad spending a year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with his evil little cousins, so long as he had his friends with him.

He could survive anything so long as he had his friends.

~ * ~

 **A/N** I was actually going to continue this chapter on a little bit longer but then I noticed a) how long it already was and b) how long it had been since I posted the ‘Prologue’ so here we go. I’ve actually been taking part in a writing challenge for the last month which is why I’m playing catch-up now with all my stories. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments welcome. X 


	3. Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

 **A/N** – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the “scene is being set”, I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

 **CHAPTER WARNINGS:** Underage Sexual Experimentation (masturbation)

 **A/N** Also, because there is no reference for what he looks like due to him being cut out of the movies I have imagined Charlie Weasley looking like Richard Madden only with red hair.

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Chapter Two. 1994.**

Harry woke, not for the first time, with a strangled gasp as he sat bolt upright in his bed within the confines of the heavy red curtains which surrounded in only this time it wasn't because of a nightmare or some horrific vision of Voldemort. No, this time it was because of a very strange dream which had featured the cast and storyline of ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’ which Dudley had become so obsessed with over the holidays that even Harry had been forced to watch it on more than one occasion only in his dream Robin Hood had been replaced by Charlie Weasley while Harry had found himself playing the part of Maid Marion.

And, yes, there had been kissing….lots of kissing…

In the dream he'd been kissed by not only Charlie but the Sheriff of Nottingham and, whilst the latter had been very unpleasant and had prompted him to fight back until he could escape his evil clutches, kissing Charlie, a boy…no, a man...had been…nice…really nice…which was so completely unexpected that it took him a good few minutes to realise that a certain part of his anatomy was significantly more awake than the rest of him.

“What…?”

…did this make him…you know?

“Seriously?” he scoffed at himself, glaring down at his crotch for a long moment before throwing off the covers and heading for the bathroom after checking quickly that his roommates were still fast asleep. “You know? What, can't even think the word? Ugh…”

Turning on the nearest shower stall to the bathroom door he stripped off his pyjamas, an old set of Dudley’s which were ridiculously huge on him, and ducked under the hot spray.

It wasn't the first time he'd woken up with an erection, he was a teenage boy going through puberty after all, and he knew that it was perfectly normal thanks to the extremely awkward “talk” Mrs Weasley had given both him and Ron during his stay at the Burrow before the Quidditch World Cup. He also knew, thanks to the same awkward “talk” that at they'd had, that waking up from a so called “wet dream” or feeling the need to “touch himself” were also perfectly normal things to experience whilst going through puberty. All of this had been highly amusing to him and Ron after the “talk” was over and done with, to the point where they'd compared what had happened to them, but this latest development wasn't so funny.

He tried to picture Winona Ryder, the actress he had had a crush on for a couple of years after seeing her in ‘Beetlejuice’ and ‘Edward Scissorhands’ without the Dursley's finding out he'd watched them given that they were about “freaks” and were therefore banned, but he couldn't get his mind to focus and her face would melt away inside his mind, transforming into that of Charlie Weasley. Eventually he gave up fighting it, allowing his mind to supply with images both from his dream and from the time spent with the older Weasley, and it wasn't too long after he'd given in that he felt the delicious feeling of his climax building.

It had been frightening the first time he'd orgasmed, a word he had only learned during the “talk” much to his embarrassment, but by the second and third time he could understand why people always seemed to make such a big deal about it. It felt amazing, like flying… 

He was just coming down off his high when the bathroom door opened with a thud and Seamus stumbled in, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, as he made his way across the room to the urinal where he proceeded to empty his bladder without ever noticing Harry. Much to Harry's disgust his friend didn't wash his hands before stumbling back out of the bathroom.

“Gross…”

Washing himself off as quickly as possible, a habit born from the fact that his Aunt Petunia timed how much hot water he used up which he still couldn't break even though he knew Hogwarts could never run out of hot water due to the fact that it was all done by magic, he used one of the fluffy towels provided to dry himself off, pulled on his pyjamas and returned to his dormitory to get himself ready for the day. Despite the fact that it was nearly an hour before his usual wake-up time he knew better than to try and go back to sleep, knowing that he'd slip into a deep enough sleep that he would then oversleep and miss out on breakfast.

His uniform, bought on a trip to Diagon Alley with Mrs Weasley, fit much better than his pyjamas although as was his habit he purposefully left his top button undone and wore his tie as loosely as possibly, the knot small and tight. Running his fingers through his messy hair he regretted not letting Mrs Weasley cut it before school had started, the long strands even more difficult to tame than usual, but Ron was trying a new style and wanted “a bit of support” so he'd let himself be talked into leaving it to grow out a little bit more. First chance he got, however, he'd be having a couple of inches taken off to help tame the mess.

Originally he'd intended to lounge about the Gryffindor common room until breakfast but he found himself struck by a need to be outside and so, making his silently through the deserted castle, he slipped out of the nearest entrance into the courtyard. From there his feet took him on a meandering walk around the lake, past the _Forbidden Forest_ , down to the building where the magical boats were kept safe, back up passed Hagrid’s hut before eventually bringing him to the Quidditch pitch. Once there he walked out onto the grass which felt unusually soft underfoot thanks to the cushioning enchantment which covered the entire pitch to minimise injuries during a fall or a crash, made his way to the centre circle where the two captains were always required to shake hands and lay down on his back with his hands behind his head so that he could watch the colourful morning sky.

There was no sign of the storm from the night before, in fact the sky was unusually bright and clear for the time of year, so Harry was perfectly comfortable until the breakfast bell rang. He could easily picture Ron snorting in his sleep, disturbed by the familiar noise bug unwillingness to wake up as happened every single morning. He imagined that Hermione would have been up almost as long as he himself had been, probably visiting the library.

Unlike Ron who had never bothered to ask her about her regular visits Harry knew that it wasn't just her thirst for knowledge that drew her to the library at all hours of the day but the peace and quiet it offered when compared with the rest of the school, particularly her dormitory where her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, spent all of their time giggling about “ _idiotic nonsense_ ” and singing along to both muggle and magical music.

Harry couldn't blame her for finding refuge from all of that as it was bad enough when Dean Thomas got started on his love of football, discussing things at length with Seamus and Harry who were the only ones who understood what he was going on about and then only vaguely, in Harry's case, as they weren't quite do obsessive about the popular muggle sport.

Breakfast passed quickly once he'd joined his friends, filled with the usual comings and goings of owls and the chatter associated with the first day of a new school year. Neville, who always forgot something, had a large package dropped into his lap by his grandmothers owl which turned out to be his uniform jumpers whilst Fleur received a fashion magazine and some makeup, not because she needed them but because she was a spoilt little bitch.

 

Ron stumbled into breakfast at the last second looking more asleep than awake and proceeded to inhale more food than he probably should in the few minutes he had before they needed to leave for their first lesson of the day which, after a quick check of their schedules, turned out to be _Herbology_ with the Hufflepuff's. It wasn't a challenging lesson, Herbology never was as it was 75% practical with only 25% of the course relying on written work and most of that was done during their one theory lesson a week rather than homework, as they spent the hour and a half squeezing yellowish green pus which had a rather pungent smell that reminded Harry of petrol from ‘ _Bubotubers’_. Apparently the revolting pus was the main ingredient used for treating severe acne which was, you know, good to know. The work was more than a little bit disgusting but also inexplicably satisfying.

It was with a sense of trepidation that they headed down to their second subject of the day, _Care of Magical Creatures_ , each and every one of them remembering the interesting lessons Hagrid had organised for them the year before. Once again the Gryffindor’s had been paired up with the Slytherin’s for the subject and Fleur surveyed their outdoor classroom area with an expression of disgust which only got worse once they found out exactly what they'd be doing – feeding newborn ‘ _Blast-Ended Skrewts_ ’ which were about as pleasant as they sounded. Hagrid, evidently, thought it would be fun for them to help raise them and so each of them had been forced to adopt one of the creatures which resembled a pale, slightly deformed shell-less lobster, legs sticking out at odd angles and they smelt of rotting fish.

The males, it turned out, were the ones with the deadly looking stingers whilst the females had been gifted with ominous looking suckers and both had a nasty habit of shooting sparks out of the tips of their tails every now and then, propelling them forwards a few inches whilst burning whatever was in the vicinity. This, unfortunately, included Dean’s hand.

“I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive,” Fleur sneered, refusing to go anywhere near the creature she'd been given as Dean began making his way back towards the castle in order to visit the Hospital Wing, the burn on his hand rather alarming in both size and severity. “Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once?”

Hagrid had seemed genuinely confused by their lack of enthusiasm for the creatures so after sharing a pointed look with his friends Harry, Ron and Hermione put on a rather impressive performance, giving the illusion that they were not only enjoying themselves but that they thought that rearing the new breed of monster Hagrid himself had bred was a fantastic idea.

Hermione vanished midway through lunch, scurrying off the library much to Ron’s continued bemusement as he certainly didn't see the appeal that the library offered, much preferring to spend his entire lunch break stuffing his belly with the delicious food provided.

There were times that Harry genuinely feared his friend’s stomach was going to explode…

Following lunch Harry trudged up to the top of the astronomy tower to join the rest of the class about to suffer through three painfully long hours of _Divination_ , the subject he found both painful and pointless and therefore hated that it was one of the double lessons he'd been assigned this year. Honestly, an hour and a half of Professor Trelawney was bad enough but three hours was definitely going to drive him completely and utterly insane.

“You are preoccupied, my dear,” Professor Trelawney announced mournfully as the class took their seats, standing over them and blinking down at Harry through her thick glasses. “My _Inner Eye_ sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas…most difficult…I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass…and perhaps sooner than you think…”

 _So it was to be the same this year_ , Harry thought to himself as she moved away to take her seat with her favourite students gathered close around her, Lavender and Parvati taking the pouffes on either side of her chair. Padma, Parvati’s twin sister who had been sorted into Ravenclaw, sat as far away as she could get as did Harry and Ron. Throughout his _Divination_ lessons last year Professor Trelawney had predicted death and destruction for Harry and his closest friends and it seemed that she was determined to keep the tradition going this year.

“My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars,” she announced grandly, sweeping her hands up towards the ceiling which was decorated with images of the constellations. Lavender let out a sharp gasp of excitement. “The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle…”

Harry tried not to take her “predictions” too seriously as most of them had been proven to be complete and utter codswallop but there had been a couple of times when she’d been right, or at least _almost_ right. Could Sirius be in trouble? Could he have been captured? That was, after all, what Harry had been fearing the most recently…although he supposed she could also have been referring to his growing fears about his less than straight sexuality…

No.

She was just making things up to sound mysterious in front of his gullible classmates.

There was no way she could actually see into the future…

“ _Harry!”_

Something jabbed into his side, an elbow, causing him to flinch away and let out a startled,

“What?”

Ron cleared his through, nodding towards the rest of the class who Harry now realised were completely focused on him. Despite the fact that this was an altogether too familiar experience it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable for the teenage wizard who sat up straighter in his chair, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand as Trelawney spoke up.

“I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn.”

“…born under _what,_ sorry?”

“Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!” Professor Trelawney grumbled, visibly annoyed with the fact that he wasn’t gazing up at her with wide eyes like most of the class appeared to be. Either they were easily amused or there was something mind-altering in the incense the older woman was burning around her favourite chair. Or perhaps it was a little bit of both. “I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth…your dark hair…your mean stature…tragic losses so young in life…”

“… _mean stature_ …?” Harry muttered to himself. “What the…?”

“I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?”

“No,” he answered simply. “I was born in July.”

Ron just about managed to hide his snort of laughter behind a loud cough.

For the next two and a half hours the students were forced to complete a complicated circular chart upon which they were expected to record the positions of the planets at the moment of their birth. It was proving to be quite a challenge, one that only a few of them were enjoying and Harry was most definitely not one of them as he found himself faced with the problem of having two Neptune’s upon his chart and nowhere left to put Pluto.

“Oh, Professor, look!” Lavender suddenly cried out as the end of the lesson approached rapidly, gesturing to her chart with the feathered end of her quill. Trelawney leaned over to study the page. “I think I’ve got an unexpected planet! Oooh, which one’s that, Professor?”

“It is Uranus, my dear.”

Ron couldn’t resist snorting just loud enough to be heard by everyone,

“Can I have a look at Uranus, too, Lavender?”

His friends suggestion received a great deal of laughter from everyone but Lavender who huffed loudly, her cheeks flaming brightly with embarrassment, and Professor Trelawney who proceeded to set them in incomparable amount of homework for the first day of term.

“Miserable old bat,” Ron muttered bitterly once they’d escaped the stuffy classroom and were headed down to join the rest of the school into the Great Hall for dinner. Not even Lavender and Parvati had been happy about the work. “That’ll take all weekend, that will…”

“Lots of homework?” Hermione enquired, almost smugly, as she appeared out of nowhere, joining them on their way down to the Great Hall. She was clutching her books in such a way that it was a miracle she didn’t drop all of them. “Professor Vector didn’t give _us_ any at all!”

Ron huffed loudly,

“Well, bully for Professor Vector…”

As per usual the Entrance Hall was a hive of activity as students began queuing outside the decorative doors which would eventually admit them into the Great Hall where the delicious smells of dinner were emanating from. It didn’t take long for Ron to grumble about the wait, claiming that his stomach was eating itself, and Harry was just about to beg his friend to shut up when a piercing voice cut through the general hubbub of the large crowd,

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

DeLacour.

Just what they needed…

“What?”

“Just thought you should know that your father made it into today’s paper,” their arch-nemesis announced, pretending to offer Ron the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that she held but snatching it back before he could take hold of it. Fleur laughed coldly. “Listen to this!”

_FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s troubles are not yet at an end,_ writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. _Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office._

Fleur giggled coldly.

“Fancy not even getting his name right, Weasley,” she crowed, smirking over her shoulders at her loyal followers and cronies. “It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?”

Silence had fallen upon the Entrance Hall as everyone listened to what was being said.

 _Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved with a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (‘policemen’) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr Moody’s heavily guarded house, that Mr Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer_ Daily Prophet _questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

“And there’s a picture, Weasley!”

Ron clenched his fists at his sides, glaring across at Fleur as she showed off the picture.

His neck was starting to turn an alarming shade of red…

“A picture of your parents outside their house,” she continued, snorting cruelly. “If you can even call _that_ a house. Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Ron began to shake, consumed by his mounting fury and humiliation.

“Shut up, DeLacour,” Harry grumbled, taking Ron by the elbow. “C’mon, Ron…”

“Oh, that’s right, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you?” Fleur sneered, tossing her picture perfect platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye Harry caught sight of Hermione fussing with her own less than perfect hair, attempting to get it to lie flat. “Tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

Now, Harry could put up with a lot from Fleur DeLacour but one thing he would not stand for was listening to the selfish girl insult such a wonderfully kind woman as Molly Weasley.

“You know _your_ mother, DeLacour?” Harry enquired, tightening his grip on his best friends elbow in order to stop the volatile redhead launching himself towards the Slytherin’s. Now, how to suitably retaliate… “That expressions she’s always got on his face, like she’s got dung under his nose? Has she always looked like that, or is it just because you were with her?”

Fleur’s delicately pale face flushed unattractively as she choked out,

“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then.”

What happened next was something that would live on in infamy within the halls of Hogwarts for countless years to come; a loud bang, followed by the panicked screams of several people as something painfully hot grazed along the side of his face. Fumbling for his wand, tucked securely in his robes, he had only just managed to get hold of it when a second loud bang was heard by all and a booming voice penetrated the shocked screams,

“Oh, no you don’t, young lady!”

Harry spun around to face his attacker only to find himself gazing at a pure white ferret, suspended in the air by whatever spell Professor Moody who was stood at the foot of the stairs had cast upon it. No, not it, _her_ , for the ferret had taken the place of Fleur DeLacour.

“I’ll teach you to try and curse someone when their back is turned!”

Silence fell upon the crowd as, with a wave of his wand, the unsteady Professor sent the ferret flying up into the air, high above their heads before allowing it to fall freely towards the ground, only catching it at the last possible moment. Next the ferret was sent flying from side to side in the space available, over and over until the Professor tired of this.

“You stinking, cowardly, scummy…”

Harry’s mouth dropped out in shock as the ferret was unceremoniously deposited down the front of Vincent Crabbe’s trousers, the creature struggling to grip onto the boy’s belt in an attempt to stop itself vanishing from sight. It was no good and into the piece of clothing it went, followed quickly by Gregory Goyle’s hand as the taller boy attempted to rescue Fleur.

“Oi!” Vincent protested, both at the ferret and the hand down his trousers. “Leave off!”

A titter of giggles spread through the crowd as Gregory removed his hand, blushing furiously, moments before the ferret emerged from the bottom of Vincent’s trouser leg.  

“Professor Moody!”

The familiar sharp voice of Professor McGonagall rang out over the noise of the entrance hall, silencing the titters and the giggles as she advanced on the spectacle taking place.

“What are you doing?”

Swirling the ferret around on the ground by its tail Professor Moody shrugged,

“Teaching.”

Professor McGonagall lost a considerable amount of colour from her cheeks.

“Is that a…” she gasped, obviously shocked. “Is that a _student_?”

The ex-Auror didn’t seem all that worried to be faced with the irate Head of Gryffindor who Harry genuinely suspected even Death Eaters would be afraid of as he responded calmly,

“Technically, it's a ferret…”

Harry wasn’t the only one fighting to hide a burst of uncontrollable laughter as Professor McGonagall returned Fleur DeLacour to her rightful state with a flick of her wand and a muttered incantation, the dishevelled girl appearing in an ungainly heap on the floor with her skirt up around her waist revealing her inappropriately skimpy knickers for all to see.

Flushing almost purple with a mixture of rage and embarrassment Fleur scrambled to her feet, fixing her clothing as she moved but the damage was done. Not only would she be remembered for being the girl who was turned into a ferret but she’d also forevermore be remembered as the girl who flashed almost the entire school her pink, lacy underwear.

“We _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment!” McGonagall cried, rounding on Professor Moody once more who reached out to grab hold of the back of Fleur’s robes when the Slytherin attempted to storm off with an indignant huff. “Surely Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might've mentioned it…”

“Well, you will do well to remember it.”

“I just thought that a good sharp shock –”

McGonagall practically screeched in response to his attempt at justification,

“We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House! We don’t transform them into…into an animal and torture them in front the student population!”

“Huh…” Professor Moody huffed deeply before grinning broadly. “I’ll do that then.”

Fleur all but screeched, struggling to remove herself from the hand holding her in place,

“My mother will hear about this!”

“Is that a threat?” Moody roared, shaking Fleur like she was a rag doll. “Is that a threat?”

“ _Professor!_ ”

“I could tell you stories about your mother that would curl even your greasy hair!”

Fleur seemed equally as insulted by the description of her hair as she was by the slight to her mother, finally succeeding in pulling herself from the Professors grip and storming off.

“It doesn't end here!”

“ _Alastor!”_

Harry thought that, more than anything, Professor McGonagall sounded scandalised.

Beside him Ron wasn’t even trying to muffle his laughter, crowing loudly about how Fleur had got exactly what she deserved whilst also complaining that her time as a “flying ferret” hadn’t lasted longer. Hermione huffed, predictably disgusted by the redheads behaviour.

“Disperse!” Professor McGonagall ordered the students, using her wand to throw open the doors of the Great Hall so that they could enter the cavernous room. “All of you! _Now_!”

Harry and Hermione didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Ron and dragging him inside.

~ * ~

“Claude, if you throw up in my room I won't be responsible for my actions,” Draco muttered as he manually transferred his clothes from his trunk to the various storage options in his private room upon the carriage which was transporting them to _Hogwarts_ and would then be serving as their home away from home for the duration on the tournament. “I mean it.”

Claude's response was to offer him the finger with both of his hands, glaring petulantly.

He had been less than thrilled to discover that they were to travel to Hogwarts in a flying carriage pulled by a dozen winged horses, given how utterly terrified he was of heights, but it was actually the view out of the window that was causing his stomach to rebel. Whilst the interior of the carriage seemed to be perfectly still thanks to a suitable stabilising spell the exterior of the carriage was, in fact, at the mercy of the elements and as such was being flung this way and that. This meant that the view out of the various windows in the different rooms of the carriage which was, of course, bigger on the inside was constantly moving, the fluffy white clouds jerking back and forth across the blindingly blue sky, the sun flashing up once in a while to blind them. Claude wasn't the only one suffering and so most of the elegant drapes had been drawn across the windows, Draco's included, but the damage had been done as far as their friend was concerned, the motion combined with his fear leaving him desperately trying to keep his breakfast down in his stomach where it belonged.

In a repeat performance of their first night back at school Ramona was busy decorating his small room with the colourful drapes, tapestries and magical fairy lights which she had stripped from his room at _Beauxbatons_ before they'd left. This time she was putting the fairy lights up in a large spiral pattern on the ceiling which appeared to be almost hypnotic.

“Why don't you go and lie down for a bit, _mi amor_?” Javi murmured sympathetically, brushing his boyfriend’s hair back from his rather clammy forehead. “I'm sure JJ won't mind hanging out in the common room for the rest of the journey so you can sleep it off…”

Claude groaned, obviously reluctant, but eventually nodded.

Of the twenty-seven students who had put their names up for consideration only sixteen had been selected by Madame Maxime to represent _Beauxbatons_ at the _Triwizard_ _Tournament_ and, as she was selecting the best possible candidates, the final representatives  included all of the Senior Prefects for the three houses (Ramona and Thierry for _Bellefeuille_ , Yvette and Claude for _Papillonlisse_ , Adelaide and Javier for _Ombre_ _Lune_ ) as well as both the Head Boy (Draco, a former Prefect of _Bellefeuille_ ) and the Head Girl (Lara, a former prefect of _Papillonlisse_ ). As for the remaining candidates they were some of the smartest students in the entire school, consistently achieving exemplary qualifications in their chosen subjects.

“Be grateful there's only the three of you in there,” Ramona muttered from where she was fighting to get a emerald drape to hang just right above the door. “I can tell you now that there aren't enough extension charms in the world to make it comfortable for four teenage girls to share a room. We're already getting in each other's way and it's only day one...”

“Which explains why you're already here taking over my room like it was your own,” Draco chuckled as he resigned himself to having absolutely no privacy in his private room, not that it would have been any different back at _Beauxbatons_. “Who is it you're sharing with?”

“Madame has kept us troublesome _Bellefeuille’s_ together,” Ramona chuckled, stepping back so as to allow her brother and his boyfriend to slip out of the room whilst also assessing the drape she'd just hung. Eventually she nodded, happy with its placement. “I was already sharing with Josephine so that's no problem. She's even let me change the colour of the drapes around her bed to a beautiful jade green which matches those ribbons she always wears in her hair. Unfortunately I'm now also sharing a room with Skye Dreyer who has already taken over the entire dressing table with her hair products and make-up necessities, not to mention covered almost the entire floor with more pairs of shoes than I thought possible. Desiree Morel, our resident _Papillonlisse_ , is practically a saint in comparison even though she has more clothes than the rest of use combined. At least she asked before she started filling up the wardrobes and drawers with her things. Skye didn't even bother.”

It was a struggle for Draco not to start chuckling at his friends “misfortunes” but he managed to control himself, focusing instead of unpacking his various textbooks and organising them in alphabetical order on one of the shelves above his small study area.

“Couldn't you have asked to swap with one of the girls in the other room?”

Ramona scoffed loudly,

“And end up sharing a room with at least one of the ‘ _ettes’_ if not both? No, thank you!”

There weren't many people that Ramona, a generally friendly and open-minded person, didn't like but Yvette Courtemanche and Odette Poulin (or the ‘ _ettes’_ as she referred to them) were quite possibly the only people in the entire school that she couldn't stand.

It all stemmed from the fact that both Yvette and Odette had had designs on Draco at one point or another and had seen his close friendship with Ramona as an obstacle to be overcome, neither of them willing to accept the fact that he was completely gay. They had made it very clear that they believed the _right woman_ could help him and he in turn had made it perfectly clear that he believed that the _right woman_ could do the same for them.

Unfortunately they had taken this, somehow, to mean Ramona. They had been convinced for years that he and Ramona were dating in secret and had done everything to make her life as difficult as possible out of nothing more than petty jealousy and, although they had now accepted the fact that they weren't dating, they still envied her for their friendship.

“I would have gone to Madame and suggested that Josephine and I share with Nina and Adelaide were it not for the fact that Skye, Desiree and the ‘ _ettes’_ trapped in a small space together for any length of time would most probably lead to an outbreak of war,” Ramona sighed, using a simple transfiguration spells to transform the flat beige carpet beneath their feet into a ridiculously soft and fluffy expanse of forest greens and midnight blues. Draco snorted, nodding to show his agreement of her simple statement. “So I'm stuck with the lesser of two evils but if Skye carries on as she is she'll soon find her things going missing...”

As far as Draco was aware Nina Rivera was one of the few girls Ramona was actually close with, their Spanish heritage uniting the girls even though they came from different opposite sides of the country; Javier and Ramona coming from Badajoz, a city located closed to the Portuguese border while Nina had spent her formative years in Madrid before moving to Barcelona when her parents had divorced. Ramona wasn't as close with Adelaide Michaud, the smartest girl in their year who had a habit of knocking Draco off the top spot, but she was friendly with the quiet girl as she had been Nina’s closest friend since their first year.

“I wonder if JJ will ask Madame to swap rooms at some point given that it seems a little unfair that of the only two couples attending this tournament he and Fabian had been split up while Javier and Claude are together,” Draco murmured, placing the last of his textbooks on the shelf before moving on to sorting out the rest of his school supplies. His quills were some of the finest money could buy, at his father’s insistence, and were kept in a protective leather roll up case which had his families crest embossed on the outside. It had been his mother who had insisted that he have a personal set of silver inkwells which he could refill as needed, the delicate design of snakes, peacock feathers and roses showing off the quality craftsmanship of the piece. “I can't imagine Jan or Thierry having a problem with swapping.”

“Jan won't care, you're right about that, but Thierry might,” Ramona pointed out as she continued to alter the colours of the walls, ceiling, window drapes, bed drapes and even the door to create a soothing blend of blue, greens, purples and deep reds. It was…perfect, if he was honest, and it amazed him how well his friend could read him. “Jan will be too busy appreciating the female population of _Hogwarts_ and _Durmstrang_ whatever happens but Thierry…I don't know if he could survive Claude and my brother’s exuberant lifestyles…”

Draco hummed softly in agreement.

Thierry Giles was quiet possibly the quietest person he had ever met, speaking only when there was no other option. He wasn't shy, as such, merely preferred the peacefulness of his own company over the liveliness of others. No, Draco couldn't see him enjoying sharing a room with Claude and Javier but then again he was already sharing with Fabian and Jan who were just as lively as the couple were, so he probably wouldn't be too happy either way.

“I suppose it'll probably come down to who he considers to be the lesser of two evils; Javier and Claude or JJ and Fabian,” Draco surmised thoughtfully, placing the most recent family photograph on the corner of his little desk nearest the delicate looking lampshade. It had been taken during their most recent ‘ _excursion’_ to Oahu, the third largest and most densely populated of the Hawaiian Islands which was also home to the states magical community. Ramona giggles softly, putting her wand away as she perched on the bed. “You finished?”

“Yes,” she confirmed cheerfully. “My work here is done. My masterpiece is complete.”

“And with...” he paused, glancing across at the clock mounted on the wall beside the window in order to find out what the time was. “…forty-five minutes to go until we land.”

Draco's last task of settling in was to unpack his large collection of novels and short stories, filling every possible space with his books. He loved to lose himself in the wonderful worlds created in the various works of fiction, most of them surprisingly muggle in origin although he had collected all thirty-eight works by a witch called Ingrid Crawford. It had been his mother who had introduced him to his favourite author, however; the muggle Jane Austen, and as always her much read works were given pride of place on top of his bedside cabinet.

“I still don't know how you find the time to read as much as you do,” Ramona admitted, tracing the pattern covering one of the larger books on the top shelf before dropping down onto the bed with enough force to cause her to bounce upon the mattress. “I tried reading those books you recommended over the summer but I…I just couldn't find the time...”

“That's because you spend all your free time designing fabulous interiors and redecorating any room you can get your hands on,” he pointed out, dropping down beside her so that they ended up lying side by side, their heads together on his pillow. “You can build a career on that. I can hardly build a career on reading novels and short stories, well, unless I become an editor or a…a reviewer, neither of which hold much appeal if I'm completely honest.”

“No, you're destined for something far greater than that, _mi gran amigo_.”

If he were being completely honest Draco had no idea what sort of a career he wanted to pursue following the culmination of his education. His skills on the Quidditch Pitch were such that, should he feel inclined to, he could almost certainly guarantee a successful career on a professional team. However it had also been suggested by his instructors that he should consider becoming a Potions Master/Instructor due to his _natural talent_ in the subject which, although an honourable career, had never rally appealed to him. He might have a _natural talent_ in Potions but his favourite subjects were Transfiguration and Charms so if possible he'd like to find a future career which would utilise his skills in those areas.

Of course there was always the option of following in his father’s footsteps who, having turned his back on his family and their considerable fortune, had entered into business with Marcel Devereux,  the ageing apothecary who's shop was one of the fixtures of _‘Bâtons Croisés’_ and who sadly had no children to inherit the shop when the time came. Lucius had quickly proven his worth, Draco having inherited his natural talent in Potions from his father, and had taken over the business when Marcel had retired when Draco was thirteen.

His mother had always helped out in the shop when needed, even more so now that Lucius was in charge of brewing the various potions and ointments and couldn't therefore man the counter all of the time, but she had also managed to add to their regular income by creating illustrations for a magical children’s magazine, sketching and painting little scenes when they were needed and had even turned her hand to creating humorous cartoons just recently.

Draco had _not_ inherited even the slightest fraction of his mother’s artistic talent. This was one of the many reasons Narcissa doted on Ramona whenever she visited, finding her sons friend to be a kindred spirit. They had even disappeared for _‘girly-days-out’_ to art galleries on more than one occasion leaving Draco, whom Ramona was meant to be visiting, alone.

 ** _“Students,”_** Madame Maxime’s voice echoed throughout the interior of the carriage, interrupting many a contented doze or pleasant conversation. It had already been explained that they were to speak English as much as possible for the duration of their stay and so it was no surprise to hear her heavily accented voice using the language of their hosts and Draco's native tongue. **_“We shall be arriving at ‘ogwarts in t’irty minutes. Please ensure zat you are suitably dressed to represent your school during our presentation. As discussed Mademoiselles Poulin and Morel shall lead the way giving a_ short _performance of their acrobatic skills after which we shall enter in mixed pairs in ascending order of position.”_**

“ _Fantástico_ …” Ramona muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards Draco who couldn't help but chuckle softly. Odette, Yvette and Desiree were leading members of their schools dance troupe and he suspected that Yvette would be most put out at being denied a chance to perform. “They're going to think we're all complete idiots with those two showing off…”

“Just means we'll have to prove them wrong.”

Ramona grunted softly in agreement before letting out a deep sigh, slapping her hands against her thighs as she rolled off of the bed in such a way that she could spring to her feet.

“I suppose that means I have to change into my robes,” she huffed, her face scrunching up in annoyance as she thought of the delicate concoction of the finest silk money could buy. Because of her more ample figure she had always hated wearing the light fabric which clung to every curve she possessed but Draco, an impartial observer given his sexuality, had always thought she looked truly stunning in them. “I hope Skye hasn't moved my things…”

Alone for the first time since they'd boarded the carriage Draco took his time stripping off his everyday uniform; a fitted blazer over the top of an equally fitted shirt, worn with a long, thin tie with a blunt end, a pair of trousers which weren't _quite_ fitted but definitely weren't excessively loose around his long legs and a pair of black Italian leather shoes. As far as colours went each article of clothing he wore on a daily basis was a different shade of blue; light blue, sky blue, powder blue, pastel blue with the darkest part of the entire outfit being his tie and the piping around the various edges of his blazer which were both a royal blue.

In fact there were only three parts of his uniform, both his everyday outfit and the robes which he only had to don for special occasions such as this, that _weren't_ a shade of blue. His shoes, of course, were black and every article of clothing which made up his uniform had the schools coat of arms embroidered on it somewhere or other; for their blazers it was located on the left breast pocket, for their shirts (or blouses in the girls case) it was in the same sort of location on the smooth fabric, for their trousers or skirts it was actually located on the belt buckle which came with them and on their robes it was also high on the left breast but hidden from view underneath the stylish cape which barely grazed their elbows.

Finally the last point of their uniform which wasn't blue, or at least wasn't _light_ blue for some of them, were the house pins each of them had been given upon being assigned to their house during their first welcoming banquet which were worn beside the school crest. Draco, as a member of _Bellefeuille_ , wore a pin shaped like a delicate green leaf, the details highlighted in gold. As a Prefect he'd been issued a new pin with a large ‘ _P’_ in the centre of the design and had he made it to Senior Prefect he would have received one with ‘ _SP’_ on it such as the one which Ramona now wore. As it was the pin he had been given during the final welcoming feast he would ever experience at the school was slightly larger than either of his previous pins and was clearly marked with the words _‘Head Boy’_ in glittering gold.

Claude, along with all of the other students of _Papillonlisse_ , wore a lilac coloured pin shaped like a butterfly in flight with the detail marked out in a beautiful rose gold while Javier had always been proud of his midnight blue pin, perfectly circular in shape and decorated with delicate silvers stars and a crescent shaped moon to symbolise his house, _Ombre Lune._

Unbuttoning his blazer he hung it over the back of his chair rather than put it away in his wardrobe and pulled out his silk robes, slipping them on over the top of his shirt and trousers. The robes were fitted to his waist, secured by exactly twenty-eight minuscule buttons covered in the same light blue silk as the robes, where it then flared out to allow ease of movement. As with the girls robes they stopped just past his knees, leaving the bottom of his trousers and his smart black shoes clearly on display, but unlike the girls robes the cuffs of the sleeves weren't quite so tightly fitted. After fixing the layered collars of his robes so that the sharp points hung as they were intended to he smoothed out the mini-cape and carefully transferred his ‘ _Head Boy_ ’ pin to his robes, making sure to use the existing hole in the fabric rather than create new ones witch would make it look unkempt.

Glancing at himself in the mirror he mussed up his medium length platinum blond hair with his fingers, grateful that he had given up wearing it slicked back over the summer, getting it to hang artfully around his face before reaching into his wardrobe for the only part of his uniform he genuinely loathed; his beret. Draco was not now nor had he ever been a hat person and so being forced to wear the light blue “ _monstrosity_ ” as he often referred to it whenever he went outside in his everyday uniform or wore his formal robes such as now was tantamount to torture, or at least so he thought and told anyone who would listen.

 ** _“Students,”_** Madame Maxime's voice echoed through the carriage once more just as Draco had finished fussing with the angle of his beret, grumbling the whole time as he struggled to make it look alright. **_“Please assemble in ze common room. We shall be landing shortly.”_**

Collecting his wand from where he had dropped it on his bed he glanced one last time towards his reflection in the mirror, grimacing at the sight of the hat upon his head, before slipping out of the room. He paused, passing his wand over the lock in order to secure his room, but then made his way along the narrow passageway to the door which would take him to the largest room inside the carriage; the common room. It was also the first room they had entered when boarding, the exterior door admitting them into the room which could have been plucked out of their school with the intricate wall mouldings, the cavernous painted ceiling, the lush carpet and delicate looking sofas, chairs and even a chaise lounge.

Madame Maxime was perched on one of the chairs looking surprisingly elegant considering the fact that she was a half-giantess and therefore towered over everyone. Beside her Lara, the Head Girl, looked positively elfin as she sat on her own chair, her petite frame and delicate features making her looked significantly younger than her seventeen years.

One by one the students, most of them taking the advantage of the sofas although no one stretched out on the chaise lounge, arrived until finally they were all assembled bar two; Claude and Javier. Ramona, who had moved to stand beside Draco near the exterior door, was dispatched to find them just as the carriage gave a little lurch as they finally landed.

“ _Monsieur_ Jordan,” Madame Maxime called out as she rose from her seat, brushing her enormous hands across her robes in order to remove any wrinkles from the expanse of fabric. As ever her elaborate robes included a high collar, this one made of fur, which framed her head like she was an Elizabethan Queen. “If you would lower ze steps for us…”

“Of course, _Madame_.”

JJ released Fabian's hand and made his way to the door, nodding politely to Draco in order to move the blond boy out of the way, and then the room was flooded with the orange glow of a distant sunset as he flung open the door and hopped down onto the ground. Unlatch get the magical steps JJ unfolded them before offering his hand to Madame Maxime who had moved to stand in the door play, guiding her down the steps as a gentleman should.

“Thank you, _Monsieur_ Jordan.”

One by one the students exited the carriage, taking in their first glimpse of _Hogwarts_ and it was no surprise that most of them seemed rather unimpressed; when compared with the three glamorous looking chateaus which made up _Beauxbatons_ the medieval castle that was _Hogwarts_ looked rather…depressing and…damp. Draco, however, was curious. This could have been his school had his life taken a different path. Would he have been happy here?

Ramona, Claude and Javier climbed out last and door was shut and locked behind them.

“Well, you look a little bit more alive than the last time I saw you,” Draco murmured as his friends joined him just before a house elf appeared to lead them inside the building. Claude grimaced, rubbing gently at his stomach. “Good luck if any of your classes are up there…”

His friend blinked up at the high tower on the other side of the castle, whimpering softly.

“If they are I shall be dropping them _immediately_.”

Stepping into the main entrance hall of the unfamiliar school Draco felt as though he’d been transported back in time and _not_ in a good way. Looking upward he couldn’t see the ceiling which he knew must be located high above them, the flaming torches adorning the walls failing to illuminate the distant reaches, but he could clearly see that every available wall space had been filled with a magical painting of some kind. There also appeared to be a rather alarming number of suits of armour, some carved out of stone, some made of metal.

“I hope it’s not always this cold,” Ramona muttered, rubbing her hands together as her eyes glanced across at the grand marble staircase which dominated the layout of the large room.

A murmur of agreement spread through the group.

“Please arrange yourselves by order of position,” Madame Maxime ordered, gesturing towards the giant double doors to their right. “Mademoiselles Poulin and Morel shall lead.”

Odette eagerly danced forwards to the front of the line, fussing with the layers of stiff tulle which made up the skirt of her baby blue tutu until they sat exactly how she wanted them to. She had laced the bodice of her dress as tightly as possible to give her ample cleavage.

Desiree had obviously spent more time on her hair, pinned in an artful bun high up on the back of her head than on her dress, the lacing not quite as tight or as perfect as Odette’s.

As they began limbering up, going up onto the pointes of their baby blue ballet shoes, the rest of them took their places. Formal etiquette was part of the curriculum at _Beauxbatons_ , teaching them all how to properly behave on such an occasion as this, and so it only took a couple of seconds for them to get themselves ready. Nina and Thierry were at the front, the Frenchman stood on the right with his arm offered so that she could rest her hand atop his. Then came Skye, Jan, Josephine and Fabian, all paired up in the same manner. Next came the three pairs of Senior Prefects; Adelaide and Javier, Yvette and Claude, Ramona and JJ.

“Lara?” Draco murmured, offering his arm to the beautiful Luxembourger. “Shall we?”

Lara giggled, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder,

“We shall.”

From the other side of the door they heard a loud booming voice call for silence from the students which had previously been causing something of a racket before requesting,

**“If you would all please join me in welcoming the talented young students of the _Beauxbatons Academy of Magic_ and their headmistress, Madame Maxime.”**

Aided by magic the doors before them swung open smoothly, revealing a large hall with a magical ceiling which appeared to be enchanted to look like the sky above. The room was lit be a sea of candles floating underneath the enchanted ceiling as well as torches placed in strategic places around the walls. Dominating the room were the five tables; four long ones where the students of _Hogwarts_ were sat and one for the staff at the far end of the room.

The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was stood in front of his thrown like chair to greet them and Draco was amused to notice that he looked like the muggle version of a wizard; long white beard which was gathered together by a little ribbon or chain, wire-rimmed spectacles, billowing robes with delicate embroidery on the sleeves and a small round hat.

Odette and Desiree sprung into action, making their way along the centre aisle between long student’s tables in a series of elegant twirls and flourishes. A murmur of surprise spread through the gathered students, most of them obviously over-awed by the display.

Draco and the others followed at a more sedate pace; heads held high, shoulders back and polite smiles on their faces. Nothing too big or showy, such a display would be considered _vulgar_ by Madame Maxime, but certainly more than an apathetic or indifferent expression.

“Blimey!” he heard one boy mutter clearly as he passed by him. “That’s one _big_ woman!”

Arriving at the front of the hall Odette and Desiree performed a synchronised series of pirouettes, magical butterfly’s fluttering out from the ruffles of their tutus, before ending in an elegant pose amidst the polite applause coming from the sea of students and teachers.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” Professor Dumbledore called out with a seemingly genuine smile, descending from the raised platform upon which the staff table sat in order to press a kiss to the back of Madame Maxime’s hand. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Professor Dumbly-dorr, my horses have travelled a long way,” she responded, smiling approvingly down at the bespectacled wizard. Draco noticed that she was playing up her accent, turning her voice into even more of a purr than usual. “They will need attending to.”

“Don't worry, Madame Maxime,” Dumbledore was quick to reassure her, gesturing with one of his hands towards a man who looked as though he would be as tall as Madame Maxime as he continued. “Our gamekeeper, Hagrid, is more than capable of seeing to them.”

Madame Malkin turned her piercing gaze on the man in question,

“But you know, Monsieur Hagrid they drink only single-malt whiskey.”

It was just then, as they were being ushered towards the seats which had been made available to them at the end of one of the tables, that Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, warning him that someone was paying particularly close attention to him.

He made no attempt to be subtle or discreet, pausing in his journey to the table so that he could turn back and seek out the eyes which had fixated upon him. There were, in fact, more than a few people openly staring across at him with varying levels of interest in their eyes, some even with a rather heavy doses of attraction or lust making an appearance, but it took him a moment to find that particular gaze which had caught his senses attention.

A boy, aged somewhere between thirteen and fifteen, with piercing green eyes partially hidden behind a rather unattractive pair of wire rimmed spectacles. He was handsome, there was no denying that, although something needed to be done about his messy hair.

“Come on, Draco,” Lara murmured, pulling on his arm. “Time to take our seats.”

Offering the mystery boy a quick smile, almost a smirk, Draco turned and proceeded to lead Lara across to the long bench, holding her hand as she took her seat. He then took his own seat, running his fingers through his hair just as Professor Dumbledore called for silence.

“And now our friends from the north,” he announced, gesturing towards the doors. “Please greet the proud sons and daughters of _Durmstrang_ and their high master, Igor Karkaroff.”

Unlike before, when the doors had opened smoothly and gentle, this time they were flung open with an alarming amount of force so as to admit the representatives of _Durmstrang._

It was the boys who led the way, armed with staff’s which sparked upon impact with the ground as they performed a manly display of testosterone which left quite a few people, Draco included, a little bit hot under the colour. They finished by blowing magical flames up into the air, shaped like dragons and snakes, just as their female counterparts entered the room, striding calmly through the flames looking both mysterious, glamourous and aloof.

Lastly came a figure that everyone present recognised with several people crying out,

“That’s _Viktor Krum!”_

“Quick! How do I look?”

“Krum! _Victor Krum!”_

They were right, of course – it was indeed the famous Bulgarian Seeker looking every bit as handsome as he had in the numerous newspaper articles which had been written about him since the final of the _Quidditch World Cup_. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud but Draco felt his heart give an embarrassing lurch as he gazed upon the handsome wizard, nowhere near immune to the effect that his stoic expression and muscular figure had on them all.

“Igor!”

“Dumbledore!”

As the two Headmasters made a great show of greeting each other the _Durmstrang_ were led across to the table farthest away from where Draco was sat, the boys waiting politely for the girls to take their seats first before dropping down onto the benches alongside them.

“Why did the Slytherin’s get to have _Krum_?” a student further along their table grumbled loudly, earning himself a sharp look from the offended _Beauxbatons_ students at the implication that they were not interesting enough. His friend elbowed him. “I…um…sorry…”

Slytherin.

Draco found himself studying the faces of the many students in that particular table, searching out two in particular, as his mind supplied him with the information his parents had given about their former house; founded by the somewhat infamous wizard Salazar Slytherin the house tended to be composed mostly of Pureblood students, due to its founder's mistrust of Muggleborns, and as such the house was traditionally home to students who exhibit such traits as cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. It was said that most _‘Dark Wizards’_ had once belonged to Slytherin house although even the simplest bit of research would reveal that that was more of a coincidence than a rule. After all Draco’s own parents were proof that being sorted into Slytherin wasn’t a confirmation of darkness.

He spotted his youngest cousin first.

Gabrielle DeLacour had been graced with the same delicate looks that Draco himself had inherited from his mother; milky white skin, big blue eyes in her case and waist length platinum blonde hair which was gathered into a long braid and draped over one shoulder.

There was something almost... _innocent_ about her but he suspected that was all an act…

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests,” Dumbledore called out, offering the sea of faces a smile. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to _Hogwarts_. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. And now, students of _Hogwarts_! Let’s entertain our friends in the best way we can! All stand!”

Draco was surprised by how quickly most of the students jumped to their feet.

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees.”_

It was an _interesting_ song, to say the least, as it didn’t appear to have a tune as such, each student singing it in whatever way took their fancy creating a jumble of words and notes.

_“Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff.”_

Ramona giggled, sharing a look of disbelief with Draco whilst Claude tried and failed to hide his own laughter by pressing his face into Javier’s shoulder. It was such a ridiculous song, the lyrics enough to reduce them to tears of laughter, before the _“tune”_ was taken in account.

_“So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot.”_

It was because of the school song that Draco was finally able to locate his elder cousin due to the fact that she was one of the few students, even amongst the Slytherin’s, who wasn’t singing. Fleur DeLacour, just like her younger sister, had inherited the delicate looks that were common place within the Black family. Her hair, an even brighter shade of platinum blonde than either Draco’s or her sisters, was cut into a bob and styled into messy waves.

Unlike her sister Fleur didn’t look even the slightest bit innocent, not with her cold grey eyes and her pursed lips which were painted a rather vivid red colour. She was alternating between making goo-goo eyes at Viktor Krum and glaring at one of the boys sat at one of the middle two tables, a boy who was blatantly ignoring her as he laughed with his friends.

A boy who, Draco noticed straight away, was rather attractive if a little on the young side.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore announced once the song had finally reached its conclusion and the students dropped down into their seats. “The _Triwizard Tournament_ is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year.” He paused, gesturing towards the doors which opened to admit two smartly dressed men only one of whom Draco recognised as a former Quidditch Beater. “But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

Both men received a polite smattering of applause from the occupants of the large room.

“Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the _Triwizard Tournament_ and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel which will judge the champions’ efforts.”

Draco’s attention was drawn to the double doors when they once again opened, this time smoothly and silently, to admit an old man struggling to carry a large casket, obviously many years old and made of  a combination of metal and wood. The fact that he wasn’t using magic to move the obviously heavy casket suggested that the man was probably a squib.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge,” Dumbledore continued, smiling at the squib as the casket was placed on the raised platform beside where he was standing. A sheen of sweat glistened on the squibs forehead for a moment before it was wiped away with a rag. “Thank you, Mr Filch.”

The squib, a caretaker of some sort judging by his clothing, nodded sharply before leaving.

“There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess…their daring…their powers of deduction…and of course their ability to cope with danger,” Dumbledore’s voice had taken on a deadly serious tone but most students only seemed excited by the prospect of the challenges that were to be set for the champions, particularly regarding the oncoming danger. “As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will with the _Triwizard Cup_. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector; the _Goblet of Fire_.”

Draco watched, as fascinated as the rest of them, as Dumbledore drew his wand from within his robes, twirling it around his fingers for a long moment before tapping three times of the top of the casket. Nothing happened for a long moment and then the wood and metal just seemed to melt away, dissolving into thin air to reveal the item hidden inside.

As its name suggested the _“impartial selector”_ was a reasonably large goblet made of heavy hewn wood and appeared to contain flickering blue-white flames rather than a liquid.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet” Dumbledore announced, gesturing to the flames within the cup. An excited murmur spread throughout the room. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward.”

Ramona met and held his gaze.

“Tonight,” she murmured decisively, only looking across towards her brother and his boyfriend once Draco had nodded his head in agreement. “Before we retire for the night.”

“Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools,” Dumbledore continued with his rather lengthy explanation. “The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line.”

Personally Draco couldn’t understand why anyone under the age of seventeen would even want considering how dangerous and deadly the Tournament was known to be. Truthfully he was amazed that so many seventeen year old, himself included, were willing to risk their lives for the sake of glory (admittedly it was eternal glory) and a bag of gold (a _lot_ of gold...)

“Finally I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end,” Dumbledore’s tone turned graver as he gazed out at the excited faces, pressing his point home as clearly as he could. “The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet.”

Was he sure?

No, not really, but would that affect his decision to stand beside his friends?

No, not in the slightest.

After all, there was only a one in sixteen chance of his name actually being selected…

~ * ~

 **A/N** Phew! This chapter took a lot of work – creating a whole new group of characters for _Beauxbatons_ with their own personalities and appearances seemed like such a good idea when I thought up this story. LOL. I’ve had to resort to saving pictures of all my original characters with notes so that I can reliably describe them every time they appear. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this update. I can’t make any promises about how soon the next chapter shall arrive as I’ve signed up to do a writing challenge for the month of November. Comments & Suggestions are more than welcome. X


	4. Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

 **A/N** – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the “scene is being set”, I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Chapter Three. 1994.**

“Today we shall be returning to a subject we covered briefly at the end of last year; the treatment of Magic, so termed ‘ _Witchcraft’_ by the Muggle population of England.”

“ _Briefly_?!” Ron muttered incredulously, glaring at the transparent figure floating in front of the vast chalkboard at the front of the classroom. “We spent most of last year learning about the flaming ‘ _Witch Trials_ ’; seriously, how is that _briefly_ covering a subject? Ugh…”

Harry, already struggling to stay awake, couldn't help but agree with his friend.

“Page 135. Religious tensions in England during the 16th and 17th centuries resulted in the introduction of serious penalties for witchcraft,” Professor Binns droned on, ignoring the grumbling spreading around the classroom as they obediently opened their text books to the required page. “Henry VIII's Act of 1542 was the first to define witchcraft as a felony, a crime punishable by death and the forfeiture of the convicted felon's goods and chattels.”

Some students had already given up, folding their arms on their desks and resting their heads upon them, and Harry was sorely tempted to join them. He was so very tired. His sleep had been disturbed for a number of reasons recently; visions sent by Voldemort, nightmares of his Godfather being captured and, most frequently, dreams of a significantly more erotic nature focused solely on the striking blonde haired student from Beauxbatons.

It was one such dream which had left him wide awake at four o'clock that morning, unable to return to sleep with the sensations thrumming through his body and a telltale dampness inside his pyjamas. He'd dealt with the mess, using a simple cleaning charm to remove any and all evidence, but there had been nothing he could do to calm his body down enough to get a couple more hours sleep; hence his already exhausted state during their first lesson.

“According to the Act it was forbidden to; _use devise practise or exercise, or cause to be devysed practised or exercised, any Invovacons or cojuracons of Sprites witchecraftes enchauntementes or sorceries to thentent to fynde money or treasure or to waste consume or destroy any persone in his bodie membres,”_ Professor Binns continued, the historical inflections and spelling making it even more challenging for the students to focus on what was being said. His monotonous voice was a sedative at the best of times. _“Or to pvoke any persone to unlawfull love, or for any other unlawfull intente or purpose_.”

Harry let out a deep sigh.

The worst thing about his new dreams, the ones about the Beauxbatons student, was that he didn't even know the boy’s name and there was no way for him to find it out without asking either him or one of his friends and that…that simply wasn't possible. They were all seventeen, at least, making them Seventh Years whilst he, despite being the ‘ _Boy-Who-Lived_ ’, was still only a Fourth Year and therefore not really worthy of their time or attention.

“The Act also removed a right known as ‘ _Benefit of Clergy_ ’ from those convicted of witchcraft, a legal device that spared anyone from hanging who was able to read a passage from the Bible. This statute was repealed by Henry's son, Edward VI, in 1547.”

It was at this point that Ron gave up, pushing his textbook away and joined his fellow students in folding his arms on his desk and going to sleep, his movements almost perfectly synchronised with those of Justin Finch-Fletchley who had also decided to give up on the lesson. Hermione shot him a predictable glare, her hand moving quickly as she took notes despite the fact that Binns was literally just reading from the textbook just as he always did.

“Neville?”

Harry's attention was drawn away from his best friends by the concern he could hear in Hannah Abbott’s voice, prompting him to twist his body so that he could look back over his left shoulder to where the boy she was addressing was sitting. Neville was pale, unusually so, his hair and clothes looking more unkempt than usual, and his hands were trembling.

“Are you…” Hannah bit her lip, leaning in closer to the Gryffindor. “Are you alright?”

“I'm…I'm fine…just…” Neville mumbled, bringing a shaking hand up to rub at his eyes. “I just didn't sleep very well, that's all. I couldn't…I couldn't stop thinking about my…my parents…”

Hannah let out a murmur of sympathy even as Harry flinched, his mind supplying him with an image of the events which had taken place in their ‘ _Defence Against the Dark Art_ ’ class the previous afternoon; when Professor Moody had demonstrated the unforgivable curses.

 _“The_ Imperius Curse _can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody barked, causing them to jump even as he picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”_

_Hermione, quite predictably, threw her hand into the air, eager to supply the answer._

_Quite unpredictably, however, was the second hand which rose hesitantly into the air._

_Neville’s._

_“Yes?”_

_“There’s one,” Neville spoke up, voice trembling yet clearly audible. “The_ Cruciatus Curse. _”_

_Harry didn’t like the way the Professor looked at his friend._

_Like he was something fascinating, worthy of study, but not human._

_“You’re name’s Longbottom?”_

_Neville nodded nervously._

_For a long moment Professor Moody just stared down at the fourteen-year-old boy and Harry began to worry about he was going to say or do, Neville beginning to tremble under the scrutiny, before finally he turned away from the boy in order to reached into the jar for the next spider which was subsequently placed upon his desk where it remained motionless._

_It appeared to be too scared to move._

_Harry could understand that._

_“The_ Cruciatus Curse _,” Moody announced gravely, pointing his wand towards the poor spider sitting upon his desk. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea._ Engorgio! _”_

_The spider swelled, almost tripling in size, and Ron wasn’t the only one to flinch backwards._

_A shiver of fear ran down Harry’s spine as Professor Moody loomed over the spider._

“Crucio!”

_Harry had seen pain before._

_Harry had seen suffering before._

_But he had never seen anything like this before; the spider’s legs bent twitched, curling in on its body as it twitched horribly, rocking from side to side. It made no sound; as not all spiders were like Aragog, born with the ability to speak. And yet Harry was certain that had it been able to it would have been screaming, begging for mercy as the pain wracked its small body._

_How long it would have gone on for, Harry didn’t know. Professor Moody seemed content to continue indefinitely, changing the angle of his wand which sent the spider rolling in the opposite direction, but the mindless torture finally came to an end when Hermione cried out,_

_“Stop it!”_

_Unlike the rest of the class Hermione wasn’t watching the spider; she was watching Neville._

_Neville’s hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, so tightly that his knuckles had turned completely white and he’d probably be left with crescent shaped marks from his nails._

_His skin had taken on a worryingly ashen tone and his eyes were wide, filled with horror._

_Moody raised his wand, allowing the spiders legs to relax although it continued to twitch._

_“_ Reducio. _”_

_The spider shrunk back to its normal size, still trembling, and was returned to the jar._

_“Pain,” Moody announced, looking around at the class before finally settling his gaze on Neville. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the_ Cruciatus Curse _…that one was very popular once, too. Right, anyone know any others?”_

Neville’s reaction had been pushed to the back of his mind as the class had continued with a demonstration of the killing curse; the curse which had robbed him of his parents. It had only been afterwards, when Professor Moody had sought out the still affected Neville, that he had realised why his friend had been so upset; the _Cruciatus Curse_ was to Neville what the _Avada Kedavra Curse_ was to Harry. It was the thing which had taken his parents away.

“ _Or for dispite of Cryste, or for lucre of money, dygge up or pull downe any Crosse or Crosses or by such Invovacons or cojuracons of Sprites witchecraftes enchauntementes,”_ Professor Binns voice drew Harry’s attention back to his current surroundings. _“Or sorceries or any of them take upon them to tell or declare where goodes stollen or lost shall become…_ ”

Finally, after what felt like significantly longer than the two hours that the lesson had actually lasted, they were finally released and stumbled to their next lessons; the Hufflepuff's heading down to ‘ _Care of Magical Creatures_ ’ whilst Harry and his fellow Gryffindor’s made their way to the opposite side of the castle for their ‘Charms’ lesson.

As they navigated the magical staircase they passed a group of _Durmstrang_ students, all of them participating in an in depth conversation with a couple of wizards in a portrait hanging on the wall. Viktor Krum was with them, his muscles threatening to burst through the sleeves of his uniform as he stood with them folded across his chest and of course this had the predictable side-effect of making most of the Hogwarts group, including Ron, Harry noticed, but not including Hermione, go weak at the knees, their cheeks flushing brightly.

“He's just a Quidditch player, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, pulling him along by the sleeve of his ill-fitting jumper as he began to gush once more about the wonders of Viktor Krum. “Honestly, sometimes I don't know what to do with you…are you _sure_ you're not gay?”

“ _What_?” Ron all but shrieked in a painfully unmanly manner, her enquiry effectively cutting through his haze and interrupting his rambling. “No! I am _not_ gay, thank you very much!”

“There's nothing wrong with being gay, Ronald,” Hermione pointed out. “And I just wondered as you've been developing a rather unhealthy obsession with Viktor Krum.”

“Because I admire him as an athlete,” Ron protested firmly, his entire face, neck and ears flushing an alarming shade of puce. “Not because I think he's hot or…something…I'm not...”

“He _is_ hot if you go for that sort of thing, which I don't. I go for blondes myself…” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him as one and then it was his turn to flush. “I…uh…this was not how I intended to tell you guys…”

“…are you trying to tell us you're gay, mate?”

Harry nodded stilted lay in response to Ron's soft question.

“Oh,” his friend mumbled. “You’re not into me right?”

“ _Ronald_!”

“What?” Ron grumbled, glaring defensively at Hermione who was practically vibrating, ready to argue on Harry's behalf. “I don't have a problem with it. Honestly. Guys, you do know Charlie's an _equal opportunities_ kind of guy, right? I just wanted to make sure…”

“No, Ron, I'm not _into you_ ,” Harry chuckled softly. “And Charlie…he's really…?”

“I think the muggles call it bisexual,” Ron supplied with a shrug. “He's dated witches and wizards. In fact his most serious relationship was with a wizard. Mum was sure he was going to be the first one to settle down but then something went wrong and he's single again.”

“Huh…”

“Please, _please_ tell me you don't fancy my brother…”

“I don't fancy your brother,” Harry reported obediently without a single trace of emotion in his voice, earning himself a swat on the arm from his best friend. “Well, I don't any more…”

Hermione let out a peel of laughter as Ron spluttered, slipping her arms through theirs and pulling them along the empty corridor as quickly as she could knowing they were now late.

“…so, you guys are ok with me being…”

“Yes, Harry, were ok with you being gay,” Hermione announced. Ron nodded his head in agreement, his face returning to its normal colour. “I'm not ok with us being late, however.”

It was such a Hermione thing to say that Harry couldn't hold back his own peel of laughter.

“And don't worry mate, well keep this between us until you want to tell everyone,” Ron murmured reassuringly as they reached the classroom, groaning when he saw what was written upon the chalkboard in cursive writing. “Ugh. Not the _Summoning Charm_ again…”

“Please, take your seats quickly and quietly so that I may begin the class,” tiny Professor Flitwick called out from his place standing upon a stack of books. “Now, as you can see…”

Harry smiled to himself as he slipped into one the seats left available in the tiered seating along the wall nearest the door, finding himself next to Seamus. He'd been so worried about his friends would react, had put off telling them so many times, and now he could help but wonder why? Why had he been so afraid to tell them when they had reacted precisely the way he had both hope and expected them to; Ron, blustering but understanding, Hermione, relying on her knowledge but also understanding. Why had he been so worried?

“I'm going to apologise in advance, Harry,” Seamus muttered, picking up his wand when the class were instructed to do so. “Last time I did this I nearly set Dean on fire by accident so…”

Now _that_ , given Seamus's unfortunate habit of creating pyrotechnics with even the simplest of spells let alone the complicated ones, was definitely something to be worried about.

~ * ~

_Draco Malfoy_

_Claude DuPont_

_Javier De La Fuente_

_Ramona De La Fuente_

“…I still don't understand why you can't sign your own names,” Draco muttered as he carefully put the finishing touches to his friend’s circular slip of parchment. As was their habit the four friends were curled up together on his bed, Javier and Claude exchanging lazy kisses as they completed their required reading for their next Transfiguration class while Ramona lay with her legs tangled with Draco's as she worked on her Potions essay. “It's not as though it's very complicated; all you have to do is turn the parchment as you write so as to follow the circular shape. Even you could have managed such a feat, Claude…”

Reaching backwards, careful not to remove his lips from those of his boyfriend, the young Frenchman delivered a sharp smack to the curve of Draco's hip in response to the slight.

“Yes, we could have,” Ramona agreed, reaching over to flick the back of Claude's ear for no other reason than she could. “However, we all agreed that your penmanship is far superior to our and, given the importance of these slips of parchment, only the very best will do.”

“…uh huh…” Draco muttered, blowing on the last of the four slips of parchment in an effort to dry the ink. He was proud of his penmanship, something his friends knew all too well, and he was perfectly aware that the easiest way to convince him to do something he either didn't want to or didn't technically have to was to flatter him in some way given that his pride was his greatest weakness. However… “It sounds more like the three of you couldn't be bothered so I suppose you all owe me a favour now for doing your work for you…”

“Hey!” Javier protested as he pulled away from his boyfriend, pushing himself up onto his elbow so that he could glare good-naturedly at his friend. “We didn't agree to any _favours_!”

Draco snorted, waving his wand over the circles of parchment and watching as the rose into the air performing odd little spinning motions as they folded like a circular concertina, creating rigid folds and an almost deadly point. The wider part where the outer edge of the circle had ended up gathered was quickly secured with thin ribbons in their house colours.

“Oh, I think the least you can do is owe me a favour,” he announced as, with a flick of his wand, he sent the tiny bundles of parchment to the correct owner. Ramona murmured her thanks, tucking hers into her pocket, while both Claude and Javier continued to stare across at him in protest, tiny bundles on their open palms. “Or perhaps some Belgian chocolates…”

A quick flick of her own wand, paired with a simple summoning spell, and Ramona was soon in possession of a medium sized box of Belgian truffles. The Muggle kind, Draco noticed with silent approval, rather than the Magical equivalent. If there was one thing that Muggles, particularly the Belgians, could do better than Witches and Wizards it was make superior chocolate. She handed them over without a word, Draco accepting them with a small nod.

**“To s les étudiants devraient-ils se réunir dans la salle commune.” 1**

Ramona was the first to respond the loud announcement which echoed magically throughout the entire carriage, Madame Maxime's easily recognisable voice calling for her students to assemble in the common room. It seemed that the time had come for the, to make their way to the why there _Goblet of Fire_ was being house and enter their names.

“Time to go,” she sighed, tucking her slip of paper into her jacket pocket. “Come on. Move.”

Draco, albeit rather reluctantly, obeyed. Plucking his jacket from where he had hung it over the back of his chair he slipped his arms into the sleeves before rolling his shoulders to get the garment properly situated, his hands tugging at the hem for a moment before moving to secure the buttons. Javier was less precise in his movements but the overall effect was the same, his uniform fitting him rather perfectly. Claude, on the other hand, spread his arms and legs out over the now empty bed like a starfish, rubbing his head against the pillows.

When he finally sat up, reaching out for his own discarded jacket, Draco snorted loudly,

“You might want to fix your hair first…”

Ramona frowned, patting her hands over her voluminous curls self-consciously.

“Who? Me?”

“No,” Draco responded, pitching his tone to be reassuring even as he turned to gesture at where Claude was now stretching his arms above his head, his jacket half on. “Claude.”

“I'm going for the _just had sex_ look,” Claude responded with a cheeky grin, leaving the buttons of his jacket undone in favour of running his fingers through his wild hair. Rather than taming it as the action could have done his careless movements only made it worse, one side of his hair sticking up and out whilst the other lay almost flat. “What do you think?”

“I think it looks like you just got out of bed,” Draco responded, earning a glare from his friend even as the twins snorted loudly. “And Madame Maxime will never let you leave this carriage looking like that, or did you forget her lecture about representing our school?”

“Oh, shut up…” Claude muttered, moving over to Draco's mirror so that he could sort his hair out properly until it could be described as stylishly messy rather than just a mess. It was similar to how Draco worse his own hair only Claude added more volume. “There? Better?”

Unable to resist teasing his friend further Draco responded with a noncommittal sounds and a patronisingly reassuring smile which was actually more of a grimace. Claude stuck his tongue out at him, moving to follow his boyfriend out of the room, their hands drifting towards one another so that they could link their fingers together. It was sickeningly sweet.

“Come on, _mi amigo_ ,” Ramona sighed, pulling an elastic shred hair band from her wrist and quickly pulling her hair up into a semi-smart high ponytail. “Best not keep Madame waiting.”

“Indeed.”

Exiting his bedroom Draco paused to pull the door shut before offering his arm to Ramona so that they could join the flow of students making their way towards the common room.

“Ah! _Excellent_!” Madame Maxime cried out once they had entered the common room. “Now that everyone is here let us head into the castle and show them how a united school enters the _Triwizard Tournament_. “Remember, _mes étudiants_ , there shall be a great many eyes upon us. I expect you all to behave properly as you have been taught to. Show these _inférieur_ schools what students from _Beauxbatons Academy of Magic_ are made off. _Oui_?”

“ _Oui, Madame_.”

It appeared that word of their decision to enter their names that evening had reached almost every student currently residing within the castle walls as from the moment they stepped out of the carriage to the time that the doors of the _Great Hall_ swung open to admit them they were surrounded by a gaggles of students, all of them giggling and gossiping and pointing out various members of the group. Whilst it was predominantly the younger students, the ones who wouldn't have entered even if they hadn't introduced the age restriction, Draco spotted a few of the older students amongst the group. Their expressions were different, more calculating, as they attempted to figure out which one of the _Beauxbatons_ party round be chosen to compete. Some, however, wore expressions of idle curiosity and he guessed that these were the students that weren't going to enter.

Moving almost as though they'd rehearsed this moment which, surprisingly, they hadn't the students formed two lines just as they had when they'd entered the _Great Hall_ for the first time and filed past the _Goblet of Fire_ , one student on either side as they dropped their slips in. Draco was last, finding himself paired up with Ramona this time rather than Lara, and hesitated a fraction of a second before he released the piece of parchment into the flames.

He paused, watching as the piece of parchment was eaten by the flames until there was nothing left, before moving to join his friends who were chattering happily with the rest of their classmates about the important moment which had just taken place. _Beauxbatons_ had officially entered the _Triwizard Tournament_ and now it was simply a matter of waiting to see whose name would eventually be selected. Madame Maxime seemed to be exceptionally pleased with their performance, offering Igor Karkaroff a smug smile. The Headmaster of _Durmstrang_ was stood with a small group of his own students and Draco noticed as he felt Ramona grab hold of his arm to steady herself as she giggled that they all seemed worried.

Odd.

What did they have to be worried about at this stage of the proceedings?

Unless they were like Draco who, unfortunately, was rapidly realising that perhaps he should have stayed back set _Beauxbatons_ after all even if it had meant being alone for their final year of school. His stomach suddenly felt like it was full of lead, clenching unpleasantly at the very thought that his name could be the one to be chosen, his skin becoming clammy as he imagine the amount of attention he would receive. But it was too late to do anything about it now; his name had been entered into the _Goblet_. Now he just had to wait and see.

“I can see you as a Champion,” an unfamiliar voice announced suddenly, startling Draco enough that he jumped as he turned around to face the owner of the voice. He was genuinely surprised when he came face to face with none other than his cousin, Fleur, the young witch flanked by a couple of goons with a couple of less than attractive young witches hovering in the background. Ramona, having realised what was going on, smacked Claude on the shoulder until he turned, bringing Javier with him, and the three of them moved to flank Draco just in case he should need their assistance dealing with his cousin. “Should you be selected I would be delighted to attend the Yule Ball with you, were you to ask me.”

It took him a moment to get over his genuine shock but when he didn't he could help but scoff loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in their vicinity as he enquired coldly,

“…why in Merlin’s name would I want to attend the Yule Ball with _you_?”

Fleur flushed a deep red colour, spluttering angrily,

“How _dare_ you speak to me like that, you…you ignorant _peasant_!”

Draco frowned as a sudden realisation hit him and then he couldn't help but burst out laughing, an action which only seemed to annoy the already irate Slytherin even further.

“I'm sorry, but...you have no idea who I am, do you?”

At that Ramona let out an unladylike snort, catching up with him, while Javier and Claude shared a blatantly amused look before sizing up Fleur’s goons who looked ready to attack.

“No,” Fleur responded sharply, her voice carrying above the amused titters of the Hogwarts students gathering around them watching the scene taking place with undisguised interest. “Although, obviously, you can't be all that important or else you would know that I am…”

“Fleur DeLacour, daughter of the known Death Eaters, Apolline and Pierre DeLacour?” Draco interrupted her calmly, folding his arms across his chest as he met her gaze and held it. Her mouth dropped open in shock as the _Great Hall_ plunged into silence, no one daring to make a sound as they all listened to what he had to say. Even the various teachers seemed to be frozen in place, none of them moving to intervene and put an end to the confrontation. “Niece of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange…or should that be Bellatrix and _Rabastan_ Lestrange, seeing as how everyone knows that she was sleeping with both of them...”

A stunned silence fell, broken only by Fleur’s sharp intake of breath before she hissed,

“…how _dare_ you?!?”

Draco smirked down at her.

“What?” he scoffed. “Don’t like having your dirty laundry aired in public, little cousin?”

This time the silence that fell was preceded by a startled gasp which spread throughout the crowd like wildfire as eyes flickered back and forth between Draco and Fleur, each of them cataloguing the similarities between the two of them even as she reared back in shock.

“C-Cousin?”

Draco offered her his most cultured smirk.

“Draco Malfoy, at your service,” he supplied his name without hesitation, so focused on his cousin that he didn't even realising how many people were staring straight him. “Our mothers are sisters, Fleur, only mine decided to get away from Voldemort’s clutches before it was too late, as did my father, saving their reputations and their souls. Unlike yours.”

Several students cried out fearfully whilst one, a boy with red hair and freckles, cried out,

“Don't say his name!”

“Why not?” Draco responded with a shrug. “It's just a name.”

Draco turned his back on Fleur, frowning across at the alarmed students. Of the large group only two seemed to be unaffected by his use of the taboo name; a girl with bushy brown hair who was sat on one of the long benches, a book open on her lap, and the boy who had caught his attention when they'd been presented to the students of Hogwarts, the one with piercing green eyes and ink black hair which was unfortunately even messier than before.

Well, at least he had the good sense not to be frightened of a _name_ even if he did appear to have no sense of fashion or style whatsoever given that, as well as the birds nest on top of his head, his clothes were in desperate need of tidying up. It might be the end of the day but that did not mean that you should go around in such a scruffy state, or so Draco thought; you shoulder either wear your school uniform with pride or change into your own clothes.

“Why not?” he finally responded to the redhead, folding his arms across his chest as he met the wide eyes. “It's just a name. A word. What's the point in being frightened of a _word_?”

That was what his parents had told him growing up when they would share stories of their past so that he could understand the decisions they had made and learn from their mistakes. Several students spluttered, trying to come up with an answer, but no one spoke.

“Yes,” Draco muttered, offering the gathered students a tight smile. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the bushy haired girl was shooting the redhead a rather smug looking leading him to assume that he wasn't the first to point this out. “That's what I thought.”

“Draco,” Ramona murmured, her voice little more than a pure as she moved to stand beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He didn't miss the way the redhead’s eyes snapped across to her, an entirely different look appearing in them. “Perhaps we should be going…”

A cheer rang out, startling every single person in the room, and Draco turned along with everyone else to watch as two identical red haired boys, all gangly limbs and broad smiles, sped towards the crowd. Both of them had one hand raised almost triumphantly and after a moment Draco realised that they were holding identical potion vials filled with a blue liquid.

“Thank you!” the first twin cried out in response to the crowd who had responding to their cheering with cries of their own, moving out of the way so that they could move to the centre of the group. “Thank you. Well lads, we've done it. Brewed it up this morning.”

Stepping backwards Draco slotted himself into the group of _Beauxbatons_ students alongside Ramona, all of them watching the scene with barely concealed interest. Claude and Javier, standing so close together that they had managed to slip a hand in each other's back pocket, snorted as the _Hogwarts_ students continued to fawn over the admittedly attractive twins.

Obviously they were something of a big deal amongst the student body.

This time it seemed that only the bushy haired girl was unaffected by what was going on as she let out a deep, dramatic sigh, closed her book as loudly as she could and announced,

“It's not going to work.”

After sharing a look the twins moved to sit on either side of the girl, leaning in far too close for them to be anything less than good friends. Had they merely been school acquaintances Draco got the feeling that the bushy haired witch would have had no trouble removing them from her personal space. As it was she merely offered them both a truly unimpressed look.

“Oh, yeah?” one of the twins finally demanded with a cheeky grin. “Why's that, Granger?”

With a family name like _Granger_ Draco was left to surmise that the young witch was either a half-blood or a muggleborn although he did think that it was more likely to be the latter.

There was just something rather endearing about her that screamed muggle upbringing.

“You see this?”

He watched, amused, as she indicated the circle of blue smoke floating a couple of feet off of the floor around the _Goblet of Fire_. Draco had barely paid it any attention earlier, all of them passing through the boundary without hesitation as they were all over the age limit.

“This is an age line,” Granger explained to the twins. “Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“…so?”

“ _Idiotas_ …” Ramona muttered, twirling her wand in her hand like a baton. Draco hummed softly, agreeing with her sceptical tone of voice. “And they want to be _campeones_? _No_ …”

“ _So_ ,” Granger sighed, closing her book with a distinctive thud. “A genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted as an ageing potion.”

“Oh, but that's why it's so brilliant–”

“–because it's so pathetically dim witted.”

There were a set of twins a couple of years below Draco and his friends, Andre and Etienne, who did the whole ‘ _finishing each other’s sentences_ ’ thing and it was just as disconcerting from them as it was from the two redheads who had jumped up to stand on the bench, shaking the potion vials so vigorously that Draco feared for the potion held within them.

Seriously, did they not understand how dangerous that was?

Yes, most potions required shaking to activate the ingredients, but what they were doing was so far beyond what was needed it was unreal. They’d be lucky if they didn’t explode.

“Ready, Fred?”

“Ready, George?”

Draco grimaced as the twins linked their arms together, smiling broadly at each other as they uncorked their vials in preparation of drinking the worryingly unstable contents.

“Bottoms up.”

Gulping down the potion, identical grimaces flashing briefly on their faces, the twins wasted no time in jumping down from the bench, landing on the floor inside the glowing blue circle.

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone waited with baited breath to see what would happen to the twins and, when nothing obvious seemed to take place, the Hogwarts students broke out into thunderous applause, cheering far too wildly in response to what had taken place.

“Ready?”

Another hush fell over the crowd as they dropped the scraps of paper into the blue flames.

It seemed, if only for a brief moment, that their potion might have done the trick and their celebrations resumed. Draco was unsurprised, however, when the atmosphere changed.

 

A loud sizzling sound filled the air as the blue flames went wild, knocking the twins back with enough force to send them flying across the room. They landed with an audible thud, their bodies literally bouncing across the stone floor like two pebbles across a flat lake, and then as though to add insult to injury their hair began to lighten, growing almost as quickly as the ice white beards which began sprouting from their youthful faces until they looked ancient.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” Claude gasped, clutching at his boyfriends arm as his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. Javier wasn’t much better, chuckling to himself. “ _Formidable!_ ”

“…you said!”

Draco joined in with his friend’s laughter as he watched the twin nearest to him turn and pounce on his brother, his hands grabbing for purchase on his robes as they rolled together.

“ _You_ said!”

Chaos descended upon the room as the grey haired twins rolled around on the floor, wrestling with one another over whose fault their predicament was whilst the majority of the _Hogwarts_ students began chanting in favour of the fight. A notable exception was Miss Granger who, with a dramatic roll of her eyes, settled down on her bench with her book.

“I did warn you,” a deep voice, filled with amusement, broke through the chanting of the _Hogwarts_ students, silencing them at once. All eyes turned to see Professor Dumbledore entering the _Great Hall_ , his eyes twinkling with merriment, and after a long moment the twins separated and helped each other to their feet, standing side by side before him. “I suggest you both go up to Madame Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of _Ravenclaw_ , and Mr Summers, of _Hufflepuff_ , both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.”

Before either of the twins could obey their Headmasters instruction the doors to the _Great Hall_ swung open once more, this time admitting the unmistakable figure of Viktor Krum. He was followed closely by his own Headmaster, the notoriously Dark Wizard Igor Karkaroff, and one of his fellow Durmstrang students, a serious young man called Ivan Poliakoff who had the unfortunate “claim to fame” of being Karkaroff’s favourite nephew. This had, sadly, resulted in him being sent to live with the Dark Wizard after the sudden death of his mother when he was only a young child. His father had died _mysteriously_ before he was born. As such he had been groomed towards the darker aspects of magic all his life and it was only his friendship with Krum, the talented Quidditch player, that kept him on the side of good.

Ramona hummed softly in appreciation, particularly whilst gazing at his muscular arms.

“If you wanted to try and set me up with him I wouldn’t mind,” she admitted softly as they watched the famous teenager walk up to the _Goblet of Fire,_ not even pausing when he reached the age line, and dropped his slip of parchment into the flames. “He’s so strong…”

“I know, right?” Claude sighed deeply. “He’s quite pleasing to the eye, isn’t he?”

Javier huffed, unimpressed by his boyfriends blatant ogling of another Wizard. 

“Oh, you know I only really have eyes for you, _Mon Amour_ ,” Claude hurriedly murmured, leaning his head against Javier’s shoulder. When the Spaniard only grunted in response he nuzzled into his neck, pressing a series of kisses to the lightly tanned skin. “ _Mon ch_ _é_ _ri…”_

Javier held on to his annoyance for a barely a moment before tilting his head to allow Claude better access to his neck and thus demonstrating his forgiveness. Rolling her eyes towards her brother Ramona missed the moment when, as he turned to leave the Great Hall, Viktor Krum paused to shoot the smallest of smiles towards the startled Miss Granger.

It would appear, Draco thought to himself as he obediently followed Madame Maxime out of the room, that his friend would be out of luck if she was at all serious about the interest she had expressed regarding Viktor Krum as his eyes had already been drawn elsewhere.

He couldn't say what possessed him to do it, it was like there was something drawing his attention back in the room, but as he was crossing the threshold Draco tilted his head to glance back over his shoulder. His eyes met a pair of startlingly green bespectacled eyes.

They blinked at each other for a long moment before Draco finally offered the younger Wizard a subtle nod of acknowledgement just before he finally exited the crowded room. 

~ * ~

 **A/N** I had actually planned to carry this chapter on a little bit further than this but it ended up working better when I ended it here. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X

1 - Please would all students assemble in the common room.


	5. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

 **A/N** – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the “scene is being set”, I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Chapter Four. 1994.**

Helping himself to a healthy portion of scrambled eggs on toast Harry settled down on the long wooden bench beside Ron and opposite Hermione. The first year Gryffindor on his other side gave a little “eep” of excitement before leaning in to whisper in his friend’s ear.

The _Great Hall_ was buzzing with the usual amount of activity for the time of day although the presence of the _Durmstrang_ and _Beauxbatons_ students had evidently caused there to be slightly more excited chattering than they were all accustomed to. Harry suspected that this might be due to the “unusual” breakfasts which the House Elves had been all too happy to prepare from them; at the Slytherin table the _Durmstrang_ students helped themselves to steaming mugs of coffee, a variety of porridges to which some of them added jam and/or cream or to a towering plate of what appeared to Harry to be doorstop sandwiches whilst at the Ravenclaw table the _Beauxbatons_ students feasted on everything from an array of delicate pastries with glasses of freshly squeezed juice to churros with thick hot chocolate or even cold cuts of meat, cheeses and freshly baked bread. It was vastly different to the milk and cereals, toast or “full English breakfasts” that the Hogwarts students were devouring.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he was able to pick Draco Malfoy out of the crowd of _Beauxbatons_ students so easily, the other being his platinum blonde hair, of course, as the older strident had opted to have what appeared to be marmalade on toast for breakfast as opposite did to the pastries and churros his friends had chosen. As Harry watched a large drop of marmalade dropped onto Draco’s chin as he took a bite, prompting him to chuckle as he hurriedly brought his napkin up to catch the droplet before it could touch his uniform.

“Ron?”

Typically his friend responded with a grunt as he popped half a sausage into his mouth.

“What do you know about the Malfoy family? Are they really related to the DeLacour’s?”

“Yeah, Draco and Fleur are definitely cousins,” Ron explained around his mouthful of food. Hermione grimaced. “Their mums are sisters, I think, and the Malfoy’s were linked to the Dark Lord and his followers during the war, just like the DeLacour’s were…are. Although the Malfoy’s fled the country in the immediate aftermath, supposedly to escape prosecution.”

“Oh…”

“Dad says that you will never find one at the scene of the crime, though their fingerprints might be all over the guilty wand,” Ron continued after swallowing his food, focusing on scooping up some of his scrambled eggs which were covered in beans. “Mum says they’re disgustingly rich and think themselves above working for a living. She says that Lucius Malfoy was always happy for others to do the hard work and then take the credit for it even when they were at school. And supposedly they were only allowed to leave the country after they bribed the judge presiding over their case with an _obscene_ amount of money.”

“Ron, that’s just hearsay and…and utter nonsense,” Hermione snapped disapprovingly. “If you’re going to give information to others at least make sure that it is factually correct first.”

“What? It’s not like you could do any better…”

“Actually, I can,” she countered primly, setting aside the spoon she had been using to eat her own breakfast of muggle coco-pops and retrieving a heavy tome from her school bag. “It just so happens that I was curious about Fleur’s relatives and decided to check out a book about ‘ _Pureblood Families and their Peerages_.’ I found the relevant information last night.”

Ron gaped at her, “Of course you did…”

Opening the thick book to the page she had marked with what appeared to be a handmade cross-stitched bookmark with simple flowers around a Capitol ‘ _H’_ their clever friend trailed her fingertip down the page until she reached the point where she wanted to read from.

 _“The Malfoy name comes from old French and translates as 'bad faith',”_ Hermione began to recite the words on the page, taking her reading as seriously as she did the readings she was called upon to perform in several of their classes. _“Like many other progenitors of noble English families, the wizard Armand Malfoy arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror as part of the invading Norman army. Having rendered unknown (and almost certainly magical) services to King William I, Lord Malfoy was given a prime piece of land in Wiltshire, seized from local landowners, upon which his descendants lived for ten consecutive centuries. Over hundreds of years, they have managed to add to their lands in Wiltshire by annexing those of neighbouring Muggles, and the favour they curried with royalty added Muggle treasures and works of art to an ever-expanding collection. Until the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, the Malfoy family was active within high-born Muggle circles, and it is said that their fervent opposition to the imposition of the Statute was due, in part, to the fact that they would have to withdraw from this enjoyable sphere of social life. Though hotly denied by subsequent generations, there is ample evidence to suggest that the first Lucius Malfoy was an unsuccessful aspirant to the hand of Elizabeth I, and some wizarding historians allege that the Queen's subsequent opposition to marriage was due to a jinx placed upon her by the thwarted Malfoy. With that healthy degree of self-preservation that has characterised most of their actions over the centuries, once the Statute of Secrecy had passed into law the Malfoys ceased fraternising with Muggles, however well-born, and accepted that further opposition and protests could only distance them from the new heart of power: the newly created Ministry of Magic. They performed an abrupt volte-face, and became as vocally supportive of the Statute as any of those who had championed it from the beginning, hastening to deny that they had ever been on speaking (or marrying) terms with Muggles.”_

“Couldn’t you have, you know, simplified this for us?” Ron enquired, sounding somewhat pained as he loaded his plate up for a second time. “Seriously, this is worse than Binns…”

Hermione shot him a glare before continuing.

 _“The Malfoy family continues to be one of the richest wizarding families in Britain, and it has been rumoured for many years (though never proven) that over the centuries the family has dabbled successfully in Muggle currency and assets. The substantial wealth at their disposal ensured them considerable (and much resented) influence at the Ministry for generations to come, though no Malfoy has ever aspired to the role of Minister for Magic. The Malfoys' unfeigned contempt for all Muggles who could not offer them jewels or influence, and for the majority of their fellow wizards, drew them naturally towards the pure-blood doctrine, which seemed for several years in the twentieth century to be their likeliest source of untrammelled power. From the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy onwards, no Malfoy has married a Muggle or Muggle-born,”_ Hermione recited clearly and of all things it was this piece of information which caused him to frown. He didn’t like the idea that there were witches and wizards who would hold someone’s magical status against them when searching for a potential husband or wife. _“The family has, however, eschewed the somewhat dangerous practice of inter-marrying within such a small pool of pure-bloods that they become enfeebled or unstable, unlike a small minority of fanatic families such as the Gaunts and Lestranges, and many a half-blood appears on the Malfoy family tree.”_

At this point Hermione turned the book so that the boys could see the simple family tree which was printed on a portion of the page which had to be unfolded so as to view it all.

“This is Draco, here,” she pointed out the name that Harry had been searching for. “And it’s through his mother, Narcissa, that he is related to the DeLacour’s. Narcissa Malfoy was born Narcissa Black and, _yes_ , Ron, you were correct, her older sister Apolline is Fleur’s mother.”

Ron shot her a smug look as she turned to book around so that she could continue reading.

_“Notable Malfoy’s of past generations include the fourteenth-century Nicholas Malfoy, who is believed to have dispatched many a fractious Muggle tenant under the guise of the Black Death, though escaping censure by the Wizards' Council; Septimus Malfoy, who was greatly influential at the Ministry in the late eighteenth century, many claiming that Minister for Magic, Unctuous Osbert, was little more than his puppet; and Abraxas Malfoy, who was widely believed to be part of the shady plot that saw the first Muggle-born Minister (Nobby Leach) leave his post prematurely in 1968 although nothing was ever proven against him.”_

Harry sighed, grimacing slightly, “They sound…lovely…”

“I know but trust me the description of Fleur’s family is significantly worse,” Hermione explained. “I can show you that later, if you’re interested. And the Black and Lestrange families which they’re also both linked to. Their histories are even darker than the Malfoy’s.  Now, in terms of recent history for the Malfoy’s this is all that the book has to say. _Abraxas’s son, Lucius, achieved notoriety as one of Lord Voldemort's infamous Death Eaters during the Wizarding War (1970 to 1981, although he successfully evaded prison after the downfall of Lord Voldemort by claiming to have been acting under the Imperius Curse though many believe that he called in favours from high-placed Ministry officials to escape incarceration. Following his trial Lucius and his family, with Narcissa and son Draco, emigrated to Europe.”_

“Huh…” Harry mumbled softly, returning his gaze to the wizard he now knew significantly more about. “That’s…good to know…and somewhat concerning…do you think he’s…dark?”

Hermione sighed.

“He didn’t seem to approve of Fleur,” she pointed out, thinking back to the confrontation. Harry nodded, agreeing with her statement as he recalled the blonde’s words and actions to his nemesis. “And just because his family history is a little bit...dark…doesn’t mean he is.”

Ron scoffed, “He probably is, though.”

A bell chimed signalling the end of breakfast and as one the student body rose from their seats, most of them abandoning whatever food they hadn’t managed to eat in favour of making it to their first class on time. Some, such as Ron, gathered up whatever they still wanted to eat and took it with them, stuffing the buttered toast into his mouth as they hurried down to the dungeons for their first class of the day; Potions with Professor Snape.

Sadly they were a fraction late due to an unhelpful moving staircase.

“10 points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, for your tardiness,” the notoriously strict Potions Master drawled as they hurriedly took their seats. “Each.”

Well, at least the day could only get better…

~ * ~

“ _Te est_ _á_ _mirando de nuevo…” (“He’s watching you again…”)_

Draco looked up from the essay he had been working on in the library at Ramona’s teasing announcement, following her gaze across to the desk opposite there’s where he caught sight a familiar messy haired boy who glanced away as soon as grey eyes met green.

_“Pienso que le gustas…” (I think he likes you…”)_

_“Ramona,”_ Draco all but purred his name as his brain switched to her native language which he had spent the last six years learning. _“Por favor deja de intentar ponerme con un chico de catorce a_ _ñ_ _os.” (“Ramona, please stop trying to set me up with a fourteen year old boy.”)_

 _“_ _¡_ _No estoy tratando de preparte!”_ she responded, smiling as innocently as she possibly could. None of them were fooled in the slightest; they’d seen that smile too often. _“S_ _ó_ _lo estoy se_ _ñ_ _alando un hecho.” (“I’m not trying to set you up! I’m just pointing out a fact.”)_

Claude, the only one of their group not actually working on his schoolwork as he had already finished everything he needed to and was now just keeping them company, huffed loudly.

 _“_ _¿_ _Podemos hablar en ingl_ _é_ _s o franc_ _é_ _s, por favour?”_ he requested, his accent truly horrific. He had been learning Spanish as long as Draco had but he didn’t share the blonde’s talent for languages so for him it was hard going. _“No todos somos…somos fluidos en esta_ _ñ_ _ol.” (“Could we speak in English or French, please? Not all of us are…are fluent in Spanish.”)_

His boyfriend chuckled, leaning over to rest his head on the Frenchman’s shoulder,

_“La pr_ _á_ _ctica te har_ _á_ _bien, mi amor.” (“The practice will do you good, my love.”)_

_“Et qu’en est-il de votre fran_ _ç_ _ais, mon amour?”_ Claude responded, his voice as smooth as silk. Draco couldn’t contain his smirk as he and Ramona watched the couple bickering with each other as they so often did, particularly when their grasp of each other’s language was concerned. Javier’s French was better than Claude’s Spanish buy he was by no means fluent. Not yet, anyway, but Draco knew they would be one day. “ _Est-ce que cela ne pourrait-il pas_ _ê_ _tre utile?” (“And what about your French, my love? Couldn’t that use some practice?”)_

Ramona snorted loudly,

_“Y…te est_ _á_ _mirando otra vez…” (“And…he’s watching you again…”)_

A quick glance confirmed that she was right.

He was cute, in an adolescent kind of way, with his jet-black hair which appeared to be completely untameable, his emerald green eyes and his lithe physique. If he were being honest the as yet unidentified boy was pretty much his type personified were it not for his age, easily identified by the classes they’d seen him entering or exiting; three years might not sound like such a big deal but when one of the couple was _legally_ an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding World and the other was still _legally_ underage it became something of an uncomfortable grey area. It wasn’t against the law, per se, but it wasn’t encouraged, either.

_“Y ahora lo est_ _á_ _s mirando fijamente…” (“And now you’re staring at him…”)_

Snapping his gaze away from the boy Draco shot his friend a glare as she giggle knowingly at him and began packing up his things, rolling his parchment carefully before placing both it and his books in his stylish messenger bag. His quill, made of fwooper feathers, and bottle of ink were stored in the specially designed wooden box his mother had gotten for Christmas when he was fourteen before being placed inside the front pocket of the messenger bag.

“I’m going to head back to the carriage where I can study in peace,” he announced, glaring pointedly at Ramona who huffed theatrically, throwing a screwed up piece of parchment at his head much to the annoyance of the school’s vulture-like librarian. _“Au revoir mes amis.”_

_“Au revoir, Draco!”_

Draco fled the library mere seconds before the irate librarian de ended on his friends to give them a lecture on proper library etiquette. He could feel the boys gaze upon him right until the moment he slipped out into the corridor which made him smile to himself and shake his head as he began traversing the corridors which would take him to the nearest exit to their carriage; the boy was obviously inexperienced in dealing with whatever feelings he had as his attentions were more than obvious. In fact Draco would go so far as to say they were positively blatant. Whereas Draco had purposefully allowed the other boy to catch him staring he knew that him noticing the Hogwarts student hadn’t been part of the plan.

As he was making his way across the freshly cut grass between the stone courtyard and the carriage he was joined by two of his fellow _Beauxbatons_ students, Odette and Yvette. He doubted very much that they had been studying as Draco and his friends had been, that wasn’t really their style. Oh, they were bright enough pupils and would graduate in the top third of their class but they wouldn’t put an ounce more effort into their education than was absolutely necessary. For them the real challenge was in their search for a suitable husband.

Thankfully his openness about his sexuality kept him safe from their flirtations.

 _“Bonjour, Mademoiselles,”_ he greeted them politely, reaching out to open the door of the carriage before stepping out of the way so that they could enter first. “After you.”

 _“Merci beaucoup, Draco,”_ they responded together, their voices perfectly synchronised down to the littlest inflection as they strode past him, alighting the steps to enter the carriage. His nose scrunched up as he caught a whiff of their strong perfume, leaving him with the horrible sensation that he wanted to sneeze but physically couldn’t as he followed them inside. They had already dropped down onto a chez-lounge each when he stepped into the common room, carefully closing the door behind him. Odette smiled up at him, flicking her long auburn curls over her shoulder as she spoke, “Are you excited for tonight?”

“Of course,” Draco responded as he made his way across the common room. “Who isn’t?”

Tonight the Champions would be selected by the _Goblet of Fire_ following the evening meal. Anyone who had entered their name was on tenterhooks as to whether or not the honour and pressure would fall upon them and Draco was certainly no exception. Bidding the girls farewell he exited to common room and headed straight for his bedroom, nodding to JJ as he passed the other boy in the corridor, and then once he was alone in the privacy of his room he dropped his bag down onto his desk, shrugged off his uniform jacket which went over the back of his chair, loosened his tie, popped open the top few buttons of his shirt.

Lastly he kicked off his shoes, leaving him in just his socks as he took a seat at his desk.

Mercifully he only had the conclusion of his essay to finish and he completed it in no time at all, ending the piece of work with his usual signature, a somewhat dramatic version of his name which he’d perfected over the last few months after signing forms had become more commonplace once he’d turned seventeen. Whereas before he’d come of age he’d had to get his parents signatures on everything he was now allowed to sign them himself which was both exciting and terrifying all at once. Finished with his homework he put everything away properly, securing the three rolls of parchment with different coloured ribbons for each class to make identifying them easier, and brought out a smaller piece of parchment.

He’d received a letter from his mother almost a week ago and had yet to reply.

_Dearest Mother,_

_I apologise for time it has taken me to respond to your letter._

_I hope you are both well._

_I have found Hogwarts to be almost exactly as I expected following the things you told me about your old school. The building is impressive in a medieval castle sort of way although I have found the climate to be less than favourable. I know winter is approaching but must it rain quite so often? I miss the sun. I’m certainly glad we are staying in our carriage rather than inside the school itself as I fear the dormitories must be awfully cold and draughty._

_Earlier this week I had my first run in with Fleur DeLacour and even I have to admit that the resemblance is rather uncanny. Her personality was everything you had warned me it would be and as such we didn’t get on well at all. In fact I rather embarrassed her in front of several of her peers for calling her out for her foul behaviour towards another couple of students._

_I haven’t met young Gabrielle yet but if she’s anything like her sister I have no desire to._

_I’m afraid I shall have to end my letter here. Tonight is the night that the_ Goblet of Fire _will select the three Champions and I want to have a shower before dinner to ensure that I’m at my best just in case. I doubt my name shall be chosen but I’d like to be prepared just in case._

_I shall write again soon to let you know who the Champions are._

_Your loving son,_

_Draco_

Blowing on the ink to dry it he carefully folded the sheet in half and then in half again so that it would fit into one of the envelopes he’s brought with him. Sealing it shut with a droplet of wax, pressing his signet ring into it as his father had taught him to, he quickly scribbled his home address on the front of the envelope and moved across to the cage hanging from a delicate chain in the corner of his room. Auctus, his owl, hopped obediently onto his left arm when he opened the cage, taking the letter carefully with his sharp beak.

“Take this to my mother, please, Auctus.”

As soon as he’d opened the simple window his eagle owl was gone, the back draft caused by his powerful wings ruffling Draco’s hair even more than the breeze from outside had done.

It was a good thing he was planning to have a shower of he’d have been annoyed that his carefully styled haired had been easily messed up on such an important day. As it was once he’d shut and secured the window her stripped out of his clothes, wrapped his towel about his waist, slipped his feet into the simple flip-flops he wore solely to walk to and from the bathroom, grabbed his wash bag from where it hung on the back of his bedroom door and made his way along the L-shaped corridor towards the carriages unisex student bathroom. 

He found Lara at one of the four sinks to the left of the bathroom door, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe with her hair secured in an elegant towel-twist on top of her head, carefully applying a lightly scented moisturiser to her face. They smiled at one another in greeting but, as was the unwritten rule in the unisex bathroom, didn’t stop to chat with each other.

To the right of the door the long thin room which effectively ran the full length of the magical interior of the carriage was split up into two types of cubicles; the ones nearest the door were the toilets and the ones furthest away were the showers. There were six of each.

 _“Désolé, Draco, pardon!”_ Thierry’s voice came from immediately behind him and Draco had no sooner stepped to the side when the other boy hurried past, his expression pained as he dove into a cubicle. _“C’esr une urgence!” (“Sorry, Draco, excuse me! This is an emergency!”)_

Draco chuckled softly, shaking his head as he continued on his way to the shower cubicles,

_“Je ne veux même pas savoir…” (“I don’t even want to know…”)_

_“Un trop grand nombre de cafés!”_ Thierry announced from inside the cubicle, an unpleasant sound accompanying his voice. _“Je devrais vraiment savoir ma limite maintenant…mais je ne le fais pas!” (“One too many coffees! I really should know my limit by now…but I don’t.”)_

Lara muttered something in her native Luxembourgish before calling out, “That’s disgusting, Thierry. For future reference please, please keep the movements of your bowel to yourself.”

There was a pause during which Draco let himself into the furthest shower stall from the door and then Thierry’s voice called out, “Sorry, Lara, I didn’t realise you were in here.”

Continuing to chuckle to himself Draco hung his towel up on the hook provided, kicked off his awful footwear and turned on the shower to get the water heating up. Whilst he waited for it to reach the temperature he personally preferred he unpacked his wash bag, placing everything with easy reach of the stream of steaming water; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, natural sea sponge and a body moisturiser designed to be applied in the shower.

Continuing to chuckle to himself Draco hung his towel up on the hook provided, kicked off his awful footwear and turned on the shower to get the water heating up. Whilst he waited for it to reach the temperature he personally preferred he unpacked his wash bag, placing everything with easy reach of the stream of steaming water; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a natural sea sponge and a body moisturiser designed to be applied in the shower.

Testing the cascade of water with his left hand he smiled, finding it just shy of unbearably hot as he liked it, and moved so that his entire body was underneath the powerful spray. For a moment he simply stood there, face tilted up into the cascading water, and allowed the heat to relax his muscles and joints until his fingers actually began to tingle with numbness.

This was his standard cue to begin his ablutions; firstly he used a tiny amount of body wash to scrub his face clean with his hands, next he shampooed his blonde locks twice and put in a decent amount of conditioner which he left to do its job as he took the sea sponge to his body, creating a remarkable amount of bubbles with the body wash as he scrubbed every inch of his skin with particular attention being paid to his underarms and the soles of his feet. Only once all of the scented body wash had been rinsed off did he set about washing the conditioner out of his hair, combing through the luxuriously soft locks with his fingers.

It wasn’t until he was massaging his moisturiser into his pale skin that his thoughts strayed from the actions he was completely purely on autopilot, his mind taking him back to one of the many times that he had his ex-boyfriend, Dieter, had showered together. Dieter had always been amused by how complicated Draco’s shower routine was but had delighted in “helping” him to apply his moisturiser as it had regularly led to something more pleasurable.

Without a single ounce of conscious thought his hand, slick with moisturiser, moved down to stroke at the hardness growing rapidly between his legs. A soft gasp escaped him when a jolt of pleasure alerted him to what he had done, drawing his attention down to his waist.

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t think of him in that way anymore,” Draco grumbled at the offending part of his body which only caused it to pulse wildly. “Ugh. Fine. Last time.

Dieter had been just a fraction taller than Draco and had had a habit of crowding him in when they were together, be it in a bed or in a shower stall, so it wasn’t surprising that he quickly found himself wedged into the corner of the stall, the tiles surprisingly cool on his skin. As his hands moved, one working to bring himself to completion whilst the other stroked across the curve of his thigh, the plane of his stomach, his pectorals, all the places that Dieter had liked to touch and fondle when they’d been together, his mind effortlessly pictured his ex-boyfriend standing before him, his trademark smile on his handsome face.

But then, as his pleasure began to peak, the image his mind was supplying for him changed.

Gone were the sun-kissed honey blonde curls, replaced by a mess of jet-black hair which was just a fraction too long. Tanned skin became almost painfully pale. Soft, plump cheeks became hollowed, more angular but not quite as sharp as Draco’s own deadly cheekbones.

And most importantly as the figure in his mind shrank from 6’1 to 5’7 at the most the baby blue eyes which had always sparkled with self-assuredness transformed into a mesmerising pair of emerald green orbs concealed behind thin panes of glass surrounded by a wire rim.

Draco’s eyes flew open as he climaxed with a shocked grunt, only just catching himself in time to stop a loud cry bursting forth from his mouth and revealing what he had been doing.

Chest heaving as his body trembled through the aftershocks of pleasure Draco moved back under the hot spray of the water, rinsing away the evidence of his pleasure as he frowned.

“…huh…” he muttered as he finally turned off the water, stepping out to grab his towel. Patting himself dry quickly he secured the rectangle of cloth around his waist, collected his shower things and headed back to his private bedroom. “…well that was…unexpected…”

No, it wasn’t the first time his subconscious had decided who he would picture whilst pleasuring himself but it was the first time it had decided upon the as yet unidentified Hogwarts student whose crush was becoming so obvious to him. Normally it was a celebrity, a Quidditch player or a male model, not someone whom he had resolved to be careful with due to the complications which could arise should he decide to pursue the younger student.

Putting it from his mind until he had more time to ponder on what his subconscious had done he set about getting himself ready for the evening meal and the ceremony which would follow as quickly as possible. He selected a fresh uniform, unaired that his hair was completely dry with a quick flick of his wand and styled to hang artfully around his face.

A knock preceded his door opening by mere seconds just as he was tying his shoes laces, admitting his three best friends into the room. They too had changed into fresh uniforms and Ramona had secured her hair into an elegant twist rather than leave it in the two braids she had been sporting all day, braids which made her look years younger than she truly was.

“Ready?”

He nodded, suddenly overcome with an unpleasant feeling of nervousness.

What if his name was selected?

Did he really want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

No, not really. Oh, his reasons for entering still stood, but now that the moment was almost upon them he realised that he would be infinitely happier if someone else were selected.

He kept his thoughts to himself, however.

Dinner was a tense affair, everyone anxious about the ceremony that was too follow, and Draco wasn’t the only one left with little to no appetite. Javier hardly ate any of his main meal but polished off his desert in record time whilst Claude was the opposite, skipping the sweet treat entirely. Of their group only Ramona seemed in fine appetite, even going so far as to help herself to Draco’s leftover desert after he’d picked out the bits that he fancied.

At long last the tables were cleared, causing an excited murmur to spread through the younger students, and the three Headteachers took their places around the Goblet of Fire.

“Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” Professor Dumbledore announced after taking a moment to assess the blue flame flickering within the Goblet. Beside him Madame Maxime smiled, nodding in agreement, and Headmaster Karkaroff fixed his cold gaze upon his students waiting in silence. “I estimate that it requires one more minute.”

“I feel sick…” Claude murmured, clearly distressed. “Ugh. Can’t they hurry this up?”

“Now, when the Champions names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber,” Professor Dumbledore continued, indicating the door behind the staff table. It swung open of its own accord, revealing a candlelit passage. “Where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

The Hogwarts Headmaster took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it, extinguishing all of the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins and plunging the Great Hall into a state of semi-darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the entire room, the bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames painful of the eyes.

Everyone watched, waiting to see what would happened next.

Josephine squealed sharply, clapping her hands together,

“Somethings happening!”

The excitable young woman was correct.

As her voice trailed off the flames inside the Goblet of Fire suddenly turned a vivid red colour, spitting and writhing as though it had suddenly been turned into the gates of hell.

Every single occupant of the room including the three Headteachers standing closest to the Goblet let out a sharp gasp when a burst of flame shot into the air, spitting out a charred piece of parchment which slowly fluttered down until it was at just the right height for Professor Dumbledore to reach out and snatch it out of the air, holding it at arm’s length so that he could read it by the light of the flames which had returned to the vivid blue white.

“The Champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice. “Will be Viktor Krum.”

“Bravo, Viktor!” Professor Karkaroff boomed unpleasantly. “Knew you had it in you!”

A good third of the room’s occupants visibly swooned as a storm of applause and cheering swept through the Great Hall. They watched as Viktor Krum, his normally apathetic expression replaced with a confident smile, rose from his seat at the Slytherin table amidst his friends congratulations and made his way up towards Dumbledore. Nodding to all three of the Headteachers he followed the instruction the Hogwarts Headmaster had given, turning right and walking along the staff table before disappearing through the open door.

Shortly thereafter the clapping and chatting died down, everyone’s attention returning to Goblet of Fire as its flames once again turned red. Draco felt his breath seize in his chest as a slightly charred circular piece of blue parchment was thrown up into the air by the flames.

Dumbledore caught it, turning it over in his hands before announcing grandly,

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is Draco Malfoy!”

“ _…merde…_ ”

~ * ~

 **A/N** Sorry for the delay – had a bit of writers block which was firmly dealt with my taking my five Godchildren to the Harry Potter Studio Tour a couple of weeks ago. I think it’s safe to say that they loved it and I loved seeing how much they enjoyed it. So, hopefully I can churn out a few more chapters before I get stalled again. Lol. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X


	6. Chapter Five

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing, I’m merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

 **SUMMARY –** ‘ _Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.’_

 **WARNINGS –** Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

 **A/N** – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the “scene is being set”, I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

**‘My Champion, My Dragon’**

**Chapter Five**

“It’s him, Ron!” Harry couldn’t stop himself from gasping sharply as the _Beauxbatons_ student who had caught his attention rose gracefully from his seat, smoothed out his uniform and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. His sharply defined features gave nothing away in regards to his feelings about being chosen, unlike Krum who’s joy had been clearly evident. Draco Malfoy was all about refined composure. “It’s him...”

“Something tells me his classmates aren’t too thrilled by the _Goblets_ decision,” Hermione murmured from where she was observing the rest of the _Beauxbatons_ students. Somewhat reluctantly Harry drew his attention away from Draco Malfoy’s pert bottom… _back! You were looking at his back_ , Harry snapped set himself silently as his cheeks flushed so deeply that they dynasties red and went straight to purple. Mercifully no one seemed to have noticed, either where he had accidentally been staring or his reaction, everyone too engrossed in making their own reactions and opinions regarding the selection plain to hear. Even Ron, sat beside him, didn’t notice although that was more likely due to the fact that he was sneaking sweet out a bag he’d hidden in the pocket of his robe. “Some of them seem to be taking it rather…badly…although I suppose it’s understandable that they’re a little bit disappointed.”

‘ _Disappointed’_ appeared to be something of an understatement.

Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into rather ugly tears, their caterwauling reminding Harry his Aunt Petunia when she pretended to be upset about something in order to convince her husband to see things her way, and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. One of the boys was shaking his head in such a way that it was obvious he had no idea he was performing such an obvious display of disapproval whilst another had slammed his clenched fist down onto the tabletop with enough for to make the poor Ravenclaw girl sitting to his left jump almost out of her seat. Finally there was one particular girl, sitting with the two crying their eyes out, who had the expression of someone who’d inadvertently swallowed a particularly sharp piece of lemon and couldn’t spit it out.

In fact only the three students who Harry had come to assume were Draco’s friends seemed to be celebrating at all, applauding wildly as beaming smiles all but split their cheeks open.

Once Draco Malfoy had followed Krum into the side chamber silence was called for once more only this time when it fell it was different, the level of tension and anticipation rising with each passing second as the gathered students waited for the final draw to happen.

It was time to find out who the _Hogwarts_ Champion would be…

For what was to be the final time the flames inside the _Goblet of Fire_ turned red, wild sparks showering out of it for a long moment before the tongue of flame they had all been waiting for shot his into the air in order to deposit the last slip of parchment in Dumbledore’s hand.

He unfolded the piece of parchment slowly and carefully.

Around Harry people were leaning forwards in their seats with anticipation.

Finally, after a seemingly agonising wait, Dumbledore made the important announcement,

“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”

Ron’s cry of dismay was completely drowned out by the uproar of approval which came from the Hufflepuff table as every single member of the friendliest house jumped to their feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and followed the previous Champions down to the side chamber behind the teachers table.

It wasn’t all that surprising that the applause lasted for almost a full five minutes before Professor Dumbledore was finally able to restore order to the excited Hufflepuff students.

“Excellent!” the highly respected headmaster called out happily once an infinitely more cheerful silence had fallen. Ron was certainly in a minority, thinking that Cedric wasn’t a suitable Champion for Hogwarts. In fact the only people who seemed to share his opinion were the Slytherin’s. Harry decided it was probably best not to point out that particular fact. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from _Beauxbatons_ and _Durmstrang_ , to give your Champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a–”

Dumbledore cut himself off, frowning deeply as the flames in the _Goblet_ turned red again.

A first year Gryffindor piped up, saying exactly what everyone was thinking,

“But I thought there were only supposed to be _three_ Champions…”

Sparks began to burst out from the _Goblet_ once more as the Great Hall descended into confused murmurs and then suddenly a fourth piece of parchment was expelled into the air.

Acting solely on instinct Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment.

He unfolded it slowly and held it out in front of him, staring at the name written upon it.

“…what’s going on?”

No one could answer the understandably confused first year.

No one but Professor Dumbledore who, after a long pause during which he did nothing but stare at the parchment in his hands, looked up at the students, cleared his throat and read,

“Harry Potter.”

As one the entire student body, including their guests from _Beauxbatons_ and _Durmstrang_ , turned to stare at him whilst up on the teachers table Professor McGonagall hurried across to snatch the piece of parchment from Dumbledore, checking it herself before beginning to whisper urgently in his ear. The other teachers looked equally as surprised as their students.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry found himself mumbling, glancing back and forth between Ron and Hermione as he begged them to believe him. He felt numb. His fellow Gryffindor’s looked so betrayed, particularly Ron. “You know I didn’t. I couldn’t have…I _wouldn’t_ have…”

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore’s called out stilly. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

He didn’t realise he was shaking his head until Hermione gave him a little nudge, hissing,

“Go on.”

Getting to his feet was difficult, his body feeling equally as numb as his brain, and his foot caught the hem of his robes which caused him to stumble as he set off along the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. His fellow students gazed up at him, slack jawed, as he passed them by although as more time passed by some of them recovered their senses enough to adopt looks of pure envy and in some cases disgust and annoyance.

Did they honestly think that he wanted this? He was _fourteen-years-old_ , for crying out loud, and he had been looking forwards to someone else being the centre of attention for once.

Fleur DeLacour in particular, sat in her usual spot on the Slytherin table with her cronies surrounding her, looked ready to spit out nails as Harry stumbled up onto the raised dais.

“Well…” Dumbledore sighed as Harry came to stand directly in front of the headmaster, his face devoid of his usual smile. In fact, Harry thought he looked pained. “Through the door.”

The silence continued as Harry walked along the teachers table, none of them saying a word to him, not even Hagrid who was usually so friendly with him, and he disappeared through the door. He found himself not in an antechamber a he’d expected but at the top of a thin winding staircase and so, as the others must have done, he followed it down until he finally reached the bottom and stepped out into what appeared to be the trophy room; there were trophies on every available surface leaving only a couple of spots on the walls available for a few portraits of wizards and witches who looked to be former Headteachers of the school.

Victor Krum, Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy were all stood in front of the truly enormous fireplace, the only source of light in the room, creating a trio of impressive silhouettes; Krum was by far the most muscular but the other two weren’t lacking in the muscles department.

“Potter?” Cedric frowned when he realised who had joined them, stepping slightly away from the fireplace as he turned to face the younger boy. Krum’s frown was even more prominent as he too turned to face the newest arrival. Draco, on the other hand, kept his face almost completely expressionless with only a hint of a frown. “Is something wrong?”

All three of them looked across at him expectantly then.

They thought he’d been sent down with a message, he realised suddenly but what could he say? How could he explain to the three rightful Champions what had happened just now?

He couldn’t.

The words died in his throat before he could even open his mouth, almost choking him, and he was almost grateful when Ludo Bagman all but tumbled down the stairs in his haste to reach him, taking him by the arm and physically drawing him over to stand with the others.

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm almost tight enough to be considered painful in his obvious excitement. “Truly! Gentlemen, may I introduce to you, incredible though it may seem, the _fourth_ Triwizard Champion in this years competition; Harry Potter!”

All three of them had vastly different reactions.

Krum straightened up from his previously hunched position, making his impressive height even more obvious as he blatantly looked Harry up and down, judging him, before smirking and looking away. Cedric looked back and forth between Bagman and Harry, his expression making it clear that he’d assumed that he had misheard something. And Draco looked, if only briefly, truly worried. This expression was quickly covered up with a charming smile.

“Is this meant to be a joke, Mr Bagman?”

“A joke?” Bagman repeated, obviously bewildered, before he forced out a high laugh as he smiled at the group. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the _Goblet of Fire_!”

“But he can’t compete,” Draco pointed out, shaking his head as Krum frowned deeply. Cedric was frowning now as well. “He’s what, a Fourth Year? He’s far too young for this.”

“Well…it is amazing,” Bagman began, his voice shaking as he rubbed at his smooth chin, all the while smiling down at Harry. It made Harry feel particularly uncomfortable, like a pawn in a game of chess. Sadly, this wasn’t an altogether new feeling for ‘ _The Chosen One_.’ “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his names come out of the Goblet…I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage…its down in the rules, you’re obliged…Harry will just have to do the best he –”

The arrival of Professor Dumbledore, Mr Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape drowned out whatever else the man had to say.

“Madame Maxime!” Draco called out as soon as he saw them, moving across to stand beside his giant of a headmistress. “They can’t really let a _fourteen-year-old_ compete…”

Drawing herself up to her full height the foreign Headmistress turned to face Dumbledore.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?”

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff, moving to stand by Viktor Krum. Harry did not like the way his blue eyes had all but frozen over, a feeling of lead polling in his stomach. “ _Two_ Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

“ _C’est impossible_ ,” Madame Maxime agreed, throwing her truly massive hands up into the air with an overly-dramatic flair. “’Ogwarts cannot ‘ave two champions. It is most unjust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff added imperiously. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools. I know several who would…”

“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff,” Snape positively delighted in placing the blame exactly where he thought it should go. Typical. “Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here –”

“Thank you, Severus,” Dumbledore cut him off, his voice sharper than Harry had ever heard him before, before he turned to face Harry himself. His expression softened, pure worry filling his eyes as he asked calmly, “Did you put your name in the _Goblet of Fire_ , Harry?”

Harry shook his head, “No.”

He hated the fact that, yet again, everyone was staring at him.

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the _Goblet of Fire_ for you?”

“ _No_.”

Madame Maxime scoffed loudly,

“Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!”

“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” McGonagall, his wonderful Head of House, came to his defence. She pulled him away from Bagman. “I am sure we are all agreed on that –”

“Dumbly-dorr must ‘ave made a mistake wiz ze line.”

“It is possible,” Dumbledore conceded, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “Of course.”

“Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you did not make a mistake!” McGonagall snapped, her hands coming to rest gently on Harry’s trembling shoulders. It was comforting, to know that she would stand by him always. “Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else!”

“Mr Crouch. Mr Bagman,” Professor Karkaroff called out, his voice sharp as a knife. “You are supposed to be our…er…objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Harry noticed that no one had, as of yet, asked him if he actually wanted to compete.

Because he didn’t.

He hadn’t put his name into the _Goblet of Fire_ and, were he to actually be consulted, he would happily drop out of the dangerous tournament and leave it up to the older students.

But they didn’t and Harry suspected that they souls to be any time soon.

“We must follow the rules,” Mr Crouch announced calmly from where he stood apart from the group, his face half concealed in shadow. “And the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the _Goblet of Fire_ are bound to compete in the _Tournament_.”

Harry let out a deep sigh of disappointment.

 _Of course they do,_ he thought to himself, _why would my life be simple for once?_

Bagman was, predictably, thrilled with this announcement,

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front.”

Another sigh, this one of defeated frustration, escaped Harry as allowed his head to fall back, leaving him gazing up at the intricate moulding of the ceiling high above them for a long moment before he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and returned to facing them.

“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,” Karkaroff all but sneered, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. In that moment Harry was reminded of a character from a cartoon Dudley had watched once, Harry catching parts of it as he’d completed his chores; when he was angry the _Durmstrang_ headmaster looked an awful lot like Rasputin from Anastasia. “You will set up the _Goblet of Fire_ once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”

“But, Professor Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” Mr Bagman attempted to laugh it off. “The _Goblet of Fire’s_ just cone out. It won’t reignite until the start of the next _Tournament_ –”

“–in which _Durmstrang_ will most certainly not be competing!” Karkaroff spat vehemently at head of the _Department of Magical Games and Sports_ , a globule of spittle actually bursting from the Professors lips and landing on Bagman’s lapel. Harry wasn’t the only one to openly grimace. “After all our many meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now! At _once_! _Immediately_!”

“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled the now familiar voice of Professor Moody as the older man limped into the room, his metal leg thinking loudly with each step. Out of the corner of his eye Harry registered Draco taking a seemingly involuntary step backwards in response to the teachers sudden appearance, his right hand moving to take hold of his wand where it was tucked into the inside pocket of his smart jacket. His expression was one of concern, of wariness. That was odd… “Your champion can’t go anywhere. He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Bit convenient, eh?”

“Convenient?” Karkaroff repeated. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”

Harry did.

He’d had too many “ _near death_ ” experiences in his short life not to understand exactly what the former Auror was implying; someone had orchestrated his participation in the infamous _Triwizard Tournament_ with the hopes that he would be badly injured or possibly even killed.

Judging by the expressions the people around them wore they had all figured it out too.

“Don’t you?” Moody enquired softly. “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter’s name in that _Goblet_ knowing that he’d have to compete if, or perhaps when came out.”

Harry couldn’t help but let out a dejected sigh.

Why did this kind of thing always happen to him?

~ * ~

Draco couldn’t believe what was happening.

First the _Goblet of Fire_ had spat out a fourth name, something it had never done before on the history of the _Tournament_. Then that name turned out to be none other than _Harry_ _Potter_ , the _Boy-Who-Lived_ , and, as if to make matters worse, it turned out that the cute fourteen-year-old student who had been semi-stalking Draco and who had begun to feature in his fantasies whether he planned it or not was none other than _Harry Potter_. And now they were actually debating as to whether or not he should be allowed/forced to compete.

“They can’t…they can’t seriously be thinking of letting him compete,” he found himself muttering in disbelief, his fellow Champions turning to face him. “He’s…he’s too young…”

“Evidently, someone ‘oo wished to give ‘ _Ogwarts_ two bites at ze apple!”

He flinched as his Headmistress added her voice to the argument once more.

“I quite agree, Madame Maxime,” Karkaroff crowed triumphantly. “I shall be lodging complaints with the _Ministry of Magic_ and the _International Confederation of Wizards – ”_

“If anyone’s got reason to complain, it’s Potter,” Moody growled, his voice sending an unpleasant shiver down Draco’s spine; he’d heard all too many tales about the infamous Auror and his methods of catching Death Eaters, or more often than not suspected Death Eaters and his treatment of them. He was on the side of the Light, yes, but he had always operated in the grey area. “But you don’t hear him saying a word, do you? How odd…”

_Odd?_

Not really, Draco reasoned, given that the boy in question appeared to still be in shock.

“Why should ‘e complain?” Madame Maxime scoffed loudly, folding her arms across her broad chest as she fixed a glare on the subject of their discussion. Draco couldn’t blame him for flinching. “’E ‘as been given ze chance to compete, ‘as the ‘e? My students ‘ave all been ‘oping to be chosen for weeks and this…this little boy usurps them like zis? It is completely unfair! I demand, _demand_ zat a second student from my school be permitted to compete.”

“As I explained to Professor Karkaroff it simply doesn’t work like that, Madame…”

“Vell perhaps it should!” Madame Maxime snapped at Bagman who had the good sense to back down from the Giantess. “Zere is the honour of our schools at stake! ‘ _Ogwarts_ now ‘as an unfair advantage! And ze prize money; a thousand Galleons! Zis is a chance many would die for and it is most unfair zat one of your students ‘as seen fit to cheat, Dumbly-dorr…”

“Maybe someone’s hoping that Potter is going to die for it.”

Draco felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he, along with everyone else in the room, turned to stare at Professor Moody in shock following the sour faced man’s statement.

He’d done a fair amount of research into the _Triwizard Tournament_ after it had first been announced, sharing what he learned with his best friends who were less inclined towards research projects that they weren’t assigned in class, and so he was well aware of the high mortality rate which had caused the original _Tournament_ to be discontinued. The danger was the main reason for the new age limit which had been implemented, a simple way to ensure that those entering had had enough time to learn the skills that they would need.

It made a sickening amount of sense that, if someone had indeed entered Harry Potters name into the _Goblet of Fire_ without his knowledge, it was done so with malicious intent.

Even if the _Goblet_ hadn’t been fixed to spit out his name which now seemed rather unlikely.

“Moody, old man,” Bagman stuttered, his expression green. “What a thing to say!”

“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” Karkaroff sneered, showing off his yellowed teeth. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination, too. An odd quality in a _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

Draco had never been more relieved to learn that Madame Maxine would be personally overseeing their lessons for the duration of the _Tournament_ than when he’d found out who the _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ teacher was at _Hogwarts_. She was an excellent teacher, strict but still fair, who encouraged her students to learn as much as they possibly could; he was confident that when he sat his final exams after the _Triwizard_ _Tournament_ had finished.

Attending classes at Hogwarts would not only have been unpleasant on a personal level but detrimental to his overall education which, given his chosen profession, wasn’t acceptable.

He wanted to become a Healer, a difficult task in of itself, but as he wanted to specialise in Mind Healing he needed to achieve top grades in order to get onto the courses he needed.

“Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh?” Moody growled, shifting his stance so that his artificial leg thudded loudly on the stone slab beneath their feet, the noise causing most of them to flinch. “It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy’s name in that _Goblet_ …”

Madame Maxime scoffed loudly,

“What evidence is zere of zat?”

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong _Confundus Charm_ to bamboozle the _Goblet_ into forgetting that only three schools compete in the _Tournament_ ,” Moody explained. “I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category.”

A fourth school?

Despite the complexities of the magic required the overall solution was alarmingly simple.

“You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” Karkaroff pointed out. “And a very ingenious theory it is…though, of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it into pieces before realising that it was a carriage clock.” Here he paused briefly as Madame Maxime let out a loud titter. “So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously…”

“Did he really…?”

“That’s the rumour,” Cedric Diggory responded softly to his mumbled query. “But my dad says that most of the rumours about Professor Moody come from people he’s arrested.”

“There are those who’ll turn even the most innocent of occasions to their advantage,” Moody announced, almost completely drowning out the end of Cedric’s statement. “It’s my job to think the way dark witches and wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember…”

“Alastor!”

It was evident from the startled expressions on the _Hogwarts_ staff and students faces that it was a rarity for Dumbledore to raise his voice as he had just done, silencing Moody before the former Auror could continue. Karkaroff was furious, his face turning an alarming shade of purple as he faced the room full of people who had just been reminded of his dark past.

He had stayed loyal to the Dark Lord until the end, had even gone to trial although as he’d never actively participated in the slaughter of innocents he received a reduced sentence.

Lucius had pointed out, however, that just because he hadn’t murdered anyone didn’t mean that he was innocent; Karkaroff had been a planner, apparently, and had been the one to organise several kidnappings and executions even if others were the ones to do the deed.

 _“You stay away from him, Draco,”_ his father had ordered him when they had fire-called a couple of weeks ago. _“Despite what he claimed he was a loyal little beast and no doubt he’d love to punish you for the fact I deserted his precious Dark Lord. Keep yourself safe, dragon.”_

_“I will, Papa.”_

“How this situation arose, we do not know,” Dumbledore continued, his voice back to its usual calm level as he surveyed the people gathered in two distinct groups in the room; teachers and students. “It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it.”

If possible Harry lost what little colour he’d had left in his cheeks.

“Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the _Tournament_ ,” Dumbledore continued, gesturing to each boy in turn. Cedric smiled. “This, therefore, they will do…”

“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr…”

“My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it.”

And that, as they say, was that.

The _Goblet of Fire_ had chosen four names and so four students would compete; seventeen-year-old Draco Malfoy of _Beauxbatons_ , eighteen-year-old Viktor Krum of _Durmstrang_ and  seventeen-year-old Cedric Diggory and fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, both of _Hogwarts_.

“Well, shall we crack on, then?” Bagman suggested brightly, clasping his hands together with anticipation. He was far too excited about the prospect of the deadly _Tournament_. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? Barty, want to do the honours?”

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” the Minister of Magic announced after a couple of false starts. He looked, well, ill if Draco were being bluntly honest; his skin was ashen and wrinkled, his hair was limp and there were large black bags underneath his dull eyes. “So we aren’t going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown quality in any wizard…very important…” He trailed off for a moment, his eyes glistening strangely as he looked at each of the champions in turn. “The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the _Tournament_. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and…and time-consuming nature of the _Tournament_ , the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests. I think…I think that’s all, isn’t it, Albus?”

“I think so,” Dumbledore confirmed, shooting a frown of concern towards the Minister of Magic. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty? It’s no trouble.”

“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry…”

Draco cleared his throat to get their attention, offering them a polite smile as he enquired,

“If we would rather not be excluded from the end-of-year exams are we permitted to sit them? I’d rather not let the _Tournament_ interfere with my education if at all possible.”

His fellow champions looked at him in something akin to horror, the idea of un-excusing themselves from the difficult exams abhorrent, whilst Madame Maxine offered him a smile.

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Crouch agreed, equally as mystified as Draco’s fellow champions by his decision to willingly add to his workload. “It shall be left up to each champion to decide whether or not they wish to sit the exams. Now I really must go, I’ve left young Weatherby in charge…very enthusiastic…a little bit over-enthusiastic, if truth be told…”

“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?”

“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!”

“Draco,” Madame Maxime called out, drawing his attention away from the excited official. “It is time for us to return to the carriage. Your classmates will wish to congratulate you.”

_“Oui, Madame.”_

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder at the still silent fourteen-year-old, meeting the stunning pair of green eyes with his own for the briefest of moments before he turned his attention to where he was going, following his Headmistress back up the stairs. A high-pitched squeal was all the warning he received upon re-entering the _Great Hall_ before he found himself with an armful of his best friends, all three of them trying to squeeze the life out of him at once as they congratulated him in their native languages.

“If it had to be anyone I’m glad it’s you, Draco,” Ramona, the owner of the squeal, gushed once they had calmed down enough to release him although she herself tucked her arm through his as the group of friends instinctively moved to follow their Headmistress. He smiled tightly at her, not entirely pleased with being chosen yet. “I mean, of course we all wanted to be chosen ourselves but as that wasn’t to be I’m glad it’s you. We all are, right?”

“Although it is somewhat ironic,” Claude chuckled, slipping his arm through Draco’s other arm, his boyfriend linking arms with him on his other side. “Out of all of us the _Goblet of Fire_ chose the student who only entered so that he wouldn’t be separated from his friends for a year. But I’m sure it knows what it’s doing; you are one of the top students in our year, after all, not to mention clever, brave and wicked sharp with both your tongue and your wand.”

Draco snorted.

“I felt like an absolute fraud when it called my name out, knowing how much everyone else wants this opportunity compared to how little I really care about it,” he admitted softly, a smile blossoming on his face for theft time his name had been read out. “Will you help me?”

“Will we help him, he asks,” Javier chuckled loudly. “Who else if not us, I ask you. Honestly.”

“Have they told you what the First Task will feature?”

“No, it’s a secret,” Draco sighed, turning to meet Ramona’s disapproving frown even as they all sidestepped together so as to get out of the narrow door that would take them out onto the patch of grass that lay between the castle and their carriage. “It’s a test of courage and bravery, though, so it could be just about anything which, you know, isn’t exactly helpful.”

“Really? They didn’t give you any clues at all?”

“Nope.”

“… _idiotas_ …” Ramona cursed under her breath. “Then how can you properly prepare for what will undoubtedly be a dangerous task without giving you anything to begin with?”

Javier slipped away from the other three so as to open the ornate carriage door for their Headmistress, smiling up at the giantess as she nodded her thanks before entering. He then proceeded to hold the door open for his sister, his lover and his best friend before following them inside and closing it firmly behind him. When he turned around to face the room he found all his fellow _Beauxbatons_ students gazing at Draco with mixed emotions; Yvette and Odette, theory makes-up streaked, were positively glowering across at him whilst beside them Desiree still wore the pinched expression she had when his name had been read out.

He couldn’t resist commenting,

“Careful, Desiree, or you face stick that way.”

The look she shot him was one of pure outrage, her face only growing more pinched.

Fabian, it seemed, was being comforted by his boyfriend. He didn’t look angry or jealous, like the girls, but he was obviously disappointed. On the other JJ, his boyfriend, looked more relieved than anything else. Whether that was for himself or for his boyfriend remained to be seen. Nina offered Draco a blinding smile, truly pleased for him, even as her arm was wrapped around Adelaide who somehow managed to look pleased for Draco but sad for herself. Jan actually crossed the room to shake Draco’s hand, congratulating him whilst simultaneously offering him a flirtatious smile which was acknowledged but not returned.

“Congratulations, Draco,” Lara murmured, following Jan’s example and crossing to give the platinum blond a tight hug whilst pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “You shall be wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

“Is Viktor Krum as handsome up close as he is at a distance?”

This question came, unsurprisingly, from Josephine.

“Um…I suppose so?” Draco responded. “Not really my type though…”

She hummed thoughtfully before returning to filing her already perfect looking nails.

Thierry said not a word, just stood in the corner of the room glaring across at Draco, his fists tightly clenched; his complete and utter jealously as plain as the nose on his handsome face.

And lastly there was Skye who looked about five second away from bursting into tears.

“I am glad to find you all here,” Madame Maxime addressed her gathered students in her own native tongue, moving to stand directly behind Draco so that she could place her large hands on his shoulders. “I hope that you will all give Draco your full support and any help that he may or may not require as he represents our school in the _Triwizard Tournament._ We are a not _Hogwarts_ or _Durmstrang_ ; we are _Beauxbatons_ and we pride ourselves in our loyalty, our diversity and our quality of education. We must remember our schools motto…”

As one the students recited the motto they had learnt in their first year,

_“Rien n'est trop lourd pour ceux qui ont des ailes.”_

_Nothing is too heavy for those who have wings._

Draco had always liked their motto, given that he was named after a winged creature.

He just hoped that their motto proved true.

~ * ~

 **A/N** I’m not going to lie – this chapter pretty much refused to be written until something clicked and BOOM, there it was. Hopefully the next chapter will be better behaved but, given my track record with the speed of my updates, I’m not holding my breath. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


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